GALACTICA: 1980
                             NEW INDEPENDENCE

                                    By
                                Lee Storm
                               30 Nov 1996

                               INTRODUCTION

     When I first saw the pilot for the "Galactica 1980" series, I thought 
Dr. Zee would be an interesting character, but I was not particularly 
impressed with the characterization. When the series took off with 'Super 
Scouts', I liked the characterization of Dr. Zee and hoped the writers and 
powers that be would develop him. Much to my great anguish, very little 
was done as far as character development.
     My idea was to try to get into his head, so to speak, in search of 
the rest of Dr. Zee. What type of lifestyle did he have? How did he 
interact with the people of the fleet? Why didn't he express more emotion? 
Lots of questions and no real answers.
     I started writing this at the end of 1980 and had to put it down due 
to some personal circumstances. Perhaps, it was a good thing I did. Upon 
picking it up again, I ended up rewriting a major portion of what had been 
already written and then things just took off.
     The story picks up six months after they meet the Alanzos and plunges 
Dr. Zee into a form of education which is more personal than academic.  He 
is forced to face some very deep intrapersonal as well as interpersonal 
conflicts, shattering the personal barriers he had built to suppress his 
emotions.  He also discovers that he has some very special gifts and is 
brought to an awareness of them through the guidance and loving compassion 
of a medic named Celesta.
     I also try to deal with the perceptions of Dr. Zee held by the people 
of the Galactican fleet and the discoveries made, particularly by Dillon 
and Troy, revealing many previously hidden facets of him.
     Troy, too, has to deal with shattered illusions and internal 
struggle, realizing that things aren't always ass they seem, things he had 
held dear were falling apart, and Dr. Zee was desperately seeking support 
from both Troy and Dillon in an effort to bring the Council and command 
structure back to what it had once been.
     And Wellington, one of our beloved "Super Scouts", learns some very 
hard and painful lessons about himself, Dr. Zee, and the damage that 
holding a grudge for a long time can do.
     If you're looking for a bang-up, shoot-'em-down, rip-roaring battle 
between Galactican and Cylon forces, forget it. This is not the story for 
you. But if you're looking for character interaction, personal conflict, 
and highly charged emotional reading, give this a try.
     I've tried to be as consistent as possible with the series, but have 
probably taken a few author's liberties. But, hopefully, I've kept most of 
the characterizations true.

Lee Storm

                                 PROLOGUE

From Dr. Zee's Tapes

Personal Logue, Earth Date June 17, 1981:
     I sit alone in my quarters, now; it is quite late and I probably 
should have been asleep two centahrs ago. But my conversation with 
Commander Adama earlier this evening has left me feeling quite troubled. I 
now realize how deeply I have inadvertently entrapped myself and am truly 
at a loss as to how to deal with this situation. No matter what path I 
choose, the impact will be very great upon the fleet. But I have to do 
something. Perhaps, I should attempt to clarify myself here.
     Even before that dream I had about the warrior, Starbuck, and his 
encounter with the woman who bore me, the dream that showed me I had not 
been born aboard the Galactica or to anyone within the fleet, I knew from 
very early on that I was different. But this difference encompassed a 
great deal more than my extraordinary intelligence. Biochemically and 
genetically, I was far from the established norms. I discovered that the 
medicines so helpful to the people of the fleet would be quite harmful to 
me. I know the prayer of the medical staff was as fervent as my own that I 
would never require serious medical intervention. But life brings with it 
many dangers, and I felt I had to at least try to prepare should illness 
or injury occur.
     It wasn't until we began to gain data from Earth that I had even a 
glimmer of hope. As more information became available, my glimmer turned 
into an ever-brightening light. I have found many biochemical compounds 
which would be extremely effective and helpful to me as the components of 
my blood match one of their types, for the most part. I must continue my 
research, but I need more time to run the appropriate tests and conduct 
the necessary experimentation. That is where the problem lies.
     All I have ever wanted was to serve the people of the Galactican 
fleet. I believe everything  and everyone in this universe has a purpose; 
perhaps mine was, or is, using my superior capabilities to aid them.
     Utilizing what they had taught me, I was able to give back to them 
improvements in their weaponry, medical procedures and computer 
technology. My research led to new compounds for accelerating plant growth 
on our agro ships yielding vegetation with higher concentrations of 
essential vitamins. All this was quite challenging and rewarding, too.
     But then, I was asked to become part of the government system of the 
fleet. This was due to the fact that I had risen to the level of Research 
Commander, a position which I thought would afford me the ability to put 
my talents to use in the areas they might be most needed. Nothing could 
have prepared me for what was to occur.
     It was fascinating, at first, and I was grateful that my input was 
considered valuable by the Council of Twelve and the command structure. I 
felt fairly comfortable voicing my insights and thoughts to them, and they 
seemed to take all that I offered to heart. Little did I realize how far 
this would go.
     Slowly, more and more of the decisions began to rest solely on my 
say, not only the great ones but, gradually, even more basic ones. 
Suddenly, it was becoming all too clear that, much to my horror,  I was in 
total command of the Council as well as of the fleet. The most distressing 
thing of all was that even Commander Adama seemed unable to carry through 
without consulting me first.
     Now, it has become exceedingly difficult for me to conduct my own 
research. In fact, general research is practically impossible as my time 
is almost totally devoted now to the command responsibilities I have been 
inexorably drawn into holding. With the rest of my waking hours, I try to 
do as much research as I can, but those hours are not enough.
     It was never my desire to create such an atmosphere of dependence on 
me; indeed, quite the contrary. My only hope and desire was to help, not 
control.
     As I said at the beginning of this record, I had a conversation with 
Adama which has greatly concerned me.
     "Adama, I must step back from my involvement in the command and 
governmental systems of the fleet. Now that I have been able to compile 
data on Earth's biochemical compounds and medical formulations, it is even 
more imperative that I devote my efforts to my research."
     For a fleeting moment, I saw what I can only describe as fear in 
Commander Adama's eyes which was quickly replaced by a fought-for control.
     "Dr. Zee," he said softly, "I understand your wish to conduct this 
research, but, surely, some of our best medics can handle it with the data 
you give them."
     I sighed, rose and began to pace. I had anticipated problems, but had 
hoped for some support from Adama. "They could handle some of it," I 
replied, "but the information I have is inconclusive and will require 
testing and experimentation which can only be done by me as no one else 
has my genetic or biochemical components."
     Adama flinched. "Surely, you're not thinking of experimenting on 
yourself!"
     "I may have little choice, Adama, but I do not intend to take grave 
risks doing so."
     "Dr. Zee," he began, then seemed unable to find words.
     "Thus far, I have been fortunate in that I have managed to avoid 
serious illness or injury requiring medical intervention," I said. "But 
how long can I be protected from these things? With life, there are risks; 
one needs to be prepared as best as one can be. And, at this time, I feel 
quite ill-prepared."
     "But, Dr. Zee!" Adama was clearly having difficulty with his 
emotions. "You are an essential part of the system!"
     Though I managed to maintain a composed expression, my heart tumbled 
into my stomach. Clearly, even Adama had become so dependent upon me that 
the mere thought of my inaccessibility was choking him.
     I allowed myself a breath or two before I spoke, knowing that my 
words would be to him, perhaps, like blows. "Yes, Adama, I know this. But 
I cannot help the survival of the fleet if I cannot first help myself to 
survive. Consider this; should anything happen to me right now which would 
require serious intervention, the possibility exists that I might not 
survive."
     Adama sighed; I knew my words had not been pleasant to his ears, but 
I hoped my point had been made. Finally, he stood up and looked down at 
me. I could see a mixture of thoughtfulness and worry in his face. He 
looked as though he had aged a few more years.
     "Very well, Dr. Zee, I shall carry your wishes to the Council in the 
morning. I can only hope that your research will bear fruit quickly and 
that no harm will come to you in carrying it through. I don't know if you 
realize how important you have become."
     I looked into the commander's eyes, feeling a great weight of 
sadness. "Yes," I replied as gently as I could, "I do know, perhaps, all 
too well."
     And now, I must hope that I will be granted the time I need.
     For some reason, and this is troubling to me as well, I can't shake a 
persistent feeling of dread--of foreboding. I have never felt this way 
before and have no explanation for it. I only know that I feel very 
strongly as though some disaster of extreme consequence is about to occur. 
And if it does, will I survive it?
     I must stop thinking this way and try to get some rest. I will need 
my strength, physically and mentally, come the day. Perhaps, that's 
it--I'm fatigued and my mind is playing tricks.
     But what if it isn't? What if--.

                            1. Almost Disaster

     "I just can't understand it, Commander." There was anguish and grief 
on the viper leader's face and his eyes drew themselves from the equally 
distressed face of his commander to meet the floor. "I saw that Cylon 
break through our perimeters and go for the Galactica, and I fired. I know 
I hit it, and then my screen went blank.  I started loosing power and 
headed back for the bay. I could hear Samuel saying that the fighter was 
about to impact." He shifted his position uncomfortably. Adama could see a 
freshly bandaged cut on Lieutenant Dante's forehead.
     "Lieutenant, I am not blaming you or your squadron. No one could have 
expected such a massive Cylon attack at this time. And their power--" 
Commander Adama placed his hand on Dante's shoulder. "Take yourself to 
Life Center and have that really taken care of."
     "Yes, Sir."
     As Dante left Adama's quarters, the commander succumbed to his 
emotions.  When the Cylon fighter had impacted with the Galactica, a few 
power-main circuits had exploded. Adama had gone to Dr. Zee's chamber for 
a full damage estimate.  Dr. Zee had been in the process of switching his 
monitors to manual override when the commander entered.
     "Dr. Zee?"
     "Yes, Adama. There appears to be extensive damage to--" The words 
were interrupted by the sound of small explosions in the monitor system. 
As Dr. Zee stepped back, the entire front facing of the computron-monitor 
blew out and, though Adama moved quickly, he was not fast enough. The 
facing hurtled towards Dr. Zee, hitting him and slamming him rather 
violently against a wall. Adama carefully lifted the unconscious boy and 
carried him out.
     After that, everything was a haze. Dr. Zee was taken to Life Center 
and the tragic results were given to the commander. Dr. Zee's injuries 
were massive and would require delicate surgery which could not be 
accomplished without help. This was not just any help, but a special kind, 
help which could only come from Earth.
     Dr. Zee had come to the Galactica as a tiny infant adrift in a small 
spacecraft.  When the recovery team had brought the craft aboard and 
carried its surprising gift, the child, to Life Center, the medics 
discovered that many of the medicines available would do more harm than 
good to him. His blood lacked many of the elements which were considered 
normal for the various races represented in the fleet. The medics did 
their best to adapt as much as they could to this unusual child's needs, 
but they knew that if any serious injury were to befall him which would 
require blood or surgical intervention, he could possibly die.
     As he grew older and his seemingly limitless intelligence began to 
reveal itself, Dr. Zee became aware of the differences in his genetic and 
biochemical makeup and the problems these presented to the Galactican 
medics. He began doing his own research, spending long hours in the 
medical lab and feeding endless data to the computron. Dr. Zee's 
frustrations grew as he found no answers to his personal dilemma. He had 
been able to help advance other areas of Galactican technology and medical 
knowledge. Why then couldn't he find answers for his own situation?
     The answers finally came as data began to be assimilated about Earth. 
Their biochemistry was, for the most part, compatible with his. The trace 
elements that were missing from Earth blood could be incorporated by 
Galactican medics. The biggest problem, however, was that the most 
compatible blood type was known as A-Negative, classified as a rare type. 
Well, hopefully, he wouldn't need to avail himself of this Earth blood, 
but at least he knew it would be able to save him if such a need should 
arise.
     And now, Adama was alone in his quarters, seeing in his mind the 
anguished eyes of his fighter leader, Dante, and the shattered form of a 
boy who had achieved so much, and yet so few people understood. Adama had 
prayed that this would never happen, that Dr. Zee would never be brought 
into a situation where he would require blood. If this had happened 
perhaps a year before, he thought, there would have been no help. But here 
they were, so close to a world that could, for the most part, accommodate 
A-Negative blood, with perhaps a few Galactican additions.
     His thought processes were jarred to reality as the intercom paged, 
"Commander Adama, wanted in Life Center. Commander Adama, wanted in Life 
Center."
     Adama walked briskly through the door of the medical facility and was 
met by a rather pale Clare, who had taken Dr. Zee's case. "Commander, he 
is conscious, in agony, and I don't know what to do."
     "What have the tests indicated, Clare?"
     Clare brought the scan up on the monitor. "He's only got two stable 
ribs on the left side; all the others are going to need a complete laser 
knit." She let out a long breath and continued. "The breast bone is 
dropped, causing pressure on the heart, so he is experiencing what is 
termed as arrhythmia. The right ribs are also depressed, and I cannot be 
sure whether this is causing excess fluid in the chest cavity, or whether 
the right lung is collapsed. The scans are just not clear enough."
     "What are You saying." Adama almost glared at the girl.
     "I'm saying that we cannot be sure of anything until we open him up." 
Clare's voice had become hardened, but Adama could see tears forming in 
her eyes. "And we can't open him up until we get--blood." That last word 
had almost choked her.
     "Can I see him?"
     "Yes, sir. Maybe You can keep him relaxed and reassured."
     "Fine, Clare. I want You to inform communications to get me Captain 
Troy on Earth and pipe it to this outer office. And get a team ready for 
transport."
     "Transport? Transport where?"
     "To the only place that can help u--Paradise Valley, California, 
Earth." The two exchanged glances, Clare's with tears, and Adama's with 
worry, yet absolute determination.
     "Commander," Clare took a tremulous breath. "I have accessed Dr. 
Zee's research. I know he has never made a bad call, but--"
     "But what?"
     Clare's professionalism broke. Fear and frustration exploded in her 
words. "Oh, frack! Commander, it's all theory and data! He's never gotten 
an actual blood type sample to work with and try to incorporate with his 
own chemistry! And--" Her hands were locked tightly together in an attempt 
to keep them from shaking; her voice caught in her throat. "I just don't 
want this to be a bad call, because if it is, it would be his first--and 
his last."
     Adama closed his eyes and sighed heavily, looking as if he was 
suddenly trying to support the combined weight of the entire fleet on his 
shoulders. Finally, after a moment, which felt to him like an eternity, he 
collected himself, placed a hand on her shoulder and, holding her gaze, 
spoke as gently as he could. "I know, and I hear what you're saying. But, 
Clare, we just have to pray quite fervently, and have faith in Dr. Zee's 
findings. Up till now, things would have been truly hopeless, but here we 
have at least a good chance for his survival." He pressed her shoulder and 
turned towards the inner treatment room. "Now please, get me Captain Troy 
immediately."
     "Yes, Sir," was her whispered reply.
     The sight that met Commander Adama's eyes as he went into the small 
inner room was almost devastating. Dr. Zee lay prone with an IV of simple 
fluids running into his left hand, while his right was secured with a body 
function monitor. His face was completely drained of color and his eyes 
fixed themselves on Adama's face. Dr. Zee was indeed conscious, turning 
all of his mental disciplines to fighting the agony that held him. Adama 
knew that the drugs and pain killers available to Galacticans could be 
harmful to Dr. Zee. As he looked into the boy's eyes, his own heart felt 
arrested.
     "Dr. Zee," the commander's voice trembled. "You've got to hold on 
just a few more hours. We're going to get you to Earth. They can help you.
     "Adama," and for a split second, Dr. Zee's face twisted. Then he 
continued, "I presume you will be asking Troy and Dillon to contact the 
doctor who cared for our children in Paradise Valley."
     "Yes," replied Adama, calmly, resting a hand against Dr. Zee's pale 
face. "But you must not concern yourself now. You need to conserve your 
strength."
     "Commander," and as Dr. Zee inhaled to continue, Adama could see that 
just the act of breathing was costing him. But he did continue. "I must 
risk giving Clare my personal authorization codes. Some of my research is 
under security lock as it was incomplete and not ready to be placed in my 
general medical file."
     Adama nodded slowly. He knew Dr. Zee was very private. He had 
entrusted Adama with his security codes as a precaution measure should 
anything happen.  Now, something had happened, and he would need to 
entrust his codes to another who could hopefully understand the 
information. Adama knew that this young man might have other things in 
those private files which were not to be shared, and could clearly sense 
Dr. Zee's unspoken concern.
     "Dr. Zee, I think I know Clare well enough that I can assure you your 
privacy will not be invaded. And, if it will help, I will access the files 
with her and personally ensure that only what is needed is gotten. Okay?"
     Dr. Zee closed his eyes and nodded slightly. Adama was right; he 
needed to conserve his strength and concentrate on the simple act of 
breathing.
     A hand touched Adama's shoulder. It was Clare. "Commander, I have 
Captain Troy on the link."
     "Thank you. Clare. Take care of him, please." Then he added softly, 
leaning close to her ear, "Clare, Dr. Zee has agreed to give you his 
personal security codes to some very private files. He says there is 
information which may help, but it was incomplete and not ready for his 
open file."
     Clare's eyes widened. "Sir?"
     "Now, I promised him that his privacy would not be invaded; that you 
would only take the information you require and touch nothing else." His 
eyes had an intensity Clare had never seen before--a warning that to even 
think of examining the files for other than the specific information on 
Dr. Zee's research would cause irreparable damage to her person. "Do I 
have your word, Clare?"
     "Yes, Sir," she replied softly. Adama nodded and went out to speak to 
Troy.
     Clare moved to sit down beside Dr. Zee. Taking her small notepad, she 
opened a file and encrypted it under her own personal code. She could see 
Dr. Zee watching her with those intense eyes of his. She held the notepad 
out to him and watched as he slowly lifted his hand and tapped in his 
private codes and the designation of the file she would need. Though there 
was no change in his expression, Clare somehow sensed his hesitation in 
releasing the codes.
     Something tightened inside her. Dr. Zee never showed hesitation about 
anything. In truth, he never displayed much emotion of any sort. He was an 
enigma on many levels, indeed. So Clare realized she had felt perhaps a 
slight jolt within her, for here was something she could understand.
     Her mind flashed back to the absolute fury she had felt towards a man 
whom she had almost married. He had used a hypnosis technique and had 
gotten the codes to her private logues, then had used some of the things 
he had found to make her life miserable. She also remembered with a sudden 
inner gasp that Dr. Zee had been present at the man's trial and that the 
Council had not overruled Dr.  Zee's recommendation of sentence.
     True, she was terribly curious about him, but so were a lot of 
people. He was not one to socialize; she had never heard him speak on a 
personal level; he was dedicated and deeply committed to any task he 
undertook from medical research to testing new or improved weaponry in the 
viper simulator. Yes, he was an enigma, but she had great respect for him, 
and would, indeed, respect his privacy.  Besides, she felt she owed him 
for what he had done regarding the sentencing of her former betrothed.
     Clare quickly dropped to her knees beside Dr. Zee, touched his 
forehead and whispered, "I owe you; you were on my side, remember?" Dr. 
Zee looked into Clare's eyes and then the smallest trace of a smile 
touched his lips. Clare smiled back. "Can you tell me specifically what 
I'm looking for? Is it easier to write or talk?"
     He shook his head slightly as if to say that it didn't matter, then 
spoke in a slow controlled voice. "The material you seek is an analysis of 
all the chemical and pharmacological complexes available on earth, at 
least, as many as I could isolate, and their interactions with my 
biochemical components--anything ingestible, injectable, or topical."
     "But--" Clare's mouth moved but no words came out. Finally she 
exclaimed, "But there are so many gaps in our information about Earth! You 
said so yourself!  And never having tested a real live sample of the Earth 
blood--"
     Her words were cut off by an almost definite tight little smile from 
Dr. Zee. "In fact, I have tested one." Clare's jaw dropped as he 
continued. "I tested Jamie Hamilton's. She possesses the A-Negative type. 
So the compatibility portion of my research has been validated. But you 
are correct," he closed his eyes and released a slight sigh. "The data on 
the chemical compounds and such is incomplete, which is why the file is 
secured." His eyes opened and his gaze was direct as he added, "I will 
only release material which I consider to be truly well-validated."
     It was Clare's turn to close her eyes and sigh, dropping her forehead 
onto her hand. "I should have surmised as much." She checked his bio 
monitor. "Enough talk; you need to conserve yourself, and I need to look 
at that file." And Dr. Zee merely nodded, his expression showing he could 
make no argument.

                             2. Call For Help

     "And you must contact that young doctor you told me about. We need 
his aid." Adama's voice had a drained quality to it. Troy was still trying 
to collect his head after the story his grandfather had related. He looked 
up at the clock over Dr.  Mortonson's kitchen table.
     "Yes," he replied finally. "Dr. Spencer, up in Paradise Valley. 
Commander, wouldn't it be better if I came back and had Dillon and Jamie 
contact the doctor?  That way things could move a little faster!"
     "Yes, indeed, Troy. Your point is well taken. Act at once. And 
Boxey," Adama paused to take a calming breath.
     "I'm here, Grandfather."
     "Please tell Dillon that he must succeed in convincing this Dr. 
Spencer to help us. If he fails, I can think of no other alternatives."
     "Dillon won't fail. I can promise that. Troy out."
     Jamie Hamilton had entered the room in time to hear Adama refer to 
Troy as "Boxey". She knew that the name's use was very personal, and one 
look told her that whatever had been discussed had had a heavy impact on 
Troy. "Troy, what is it? The Cylons?"
     "No, Jamie, it's worse. Much worse." Troy exhaled heavily. "You and 
Dillon have a mission of vital importance."
     Jamie's eyes almost popped. "Dillon? and me?"
     "Don't have much time to explain," said Troy, rising quickly and 
placing his hand on Jamie's arm. "A Cylon craft collided with the 
Galactica. Dr. Zee's been injured, he may die. You two have got to get in 
touch with Dr. Spencer at Paradise Valley Clinic. Tell him who we are. He 
pretty much has guessed the truth."
     "But Dr. Spencer can't help you. Your blood is so--uh--abnormal 
compared to our--"
     "Not Dr. Zee's!" Jamie was about to speak, but Troy continued. 
"Jamie, Dr. Zee was not born on the Galactica. We are not exactly sure 
what his true ancestry is, but, according to his research, his blood type 
corresponds to what you call A- Negative, with certain additions that our 
technology can incorporate."
     "So that's why he did that!" Jamie's soft exclamation caught Troy off 
guard.
     "Who did what?"
     Jamie dropped into a chair beside Troy and leaned towards him. "Dr. 
Zee wanted to know the blood types of myself, Dr. Mortonson and the 
Alanzos. When I told him my blood was A-Negative, he looked at me for a 
long moment and then asked me if he could take some samples for some 
research pertaining to Earth biochemistry or something. I said sure and 
gave almost half a pint. It happened shortly after he had brought the agro 
people to the Alanzo farm. You and Dillon had gone into town with Hector 
and I was bringing samples to him."
     Troy whistled. "So that's why they're so sure this blood will work." 
He kissed Jamie's cheek. "You may have just saved his life!" He cried.
     Jamie rose from her chair. "How are you going to bring him here to 
Earth? Or are you going to get Dr. Spencer to the Galactica?"
     "We have shuttles. Maybe, Adama can fly Dr. Zee's ship. Don't worry. 
We'll get him here."
     Jamie thought for a moment, then spoke. "You'll need transportation 
from your ship to the clinic. I can rent an RV. That's probably best 
because it has a bed.  Dillon can meet you and drive you to the clinic."
     "Thanks. That sounds like a good idea." Then Troy hugged her briefly. 
"Let's go."
     Troy apprised both Dillon and Dr. Mortonson of the situation. Then 
Troy, Dillon and Jamie took Jamie's car and drove to Paradise Valley, 
dropping Troy off where a viper lay concealed. Jamie pressed his hand as 
he stepped into the viper.
     "Troy," her lips trembled, "for whatever it's worth, tell Adama and 
Dr. Zee that I'll be praying, a lot."
     "I will, and it's worth a lot. But look, we can't waste any more 
time. For all we know, Dr. Zee may not make it." Troy quickly sealed 
himself into the viper and launched in to space.
     Dr. Spencer was available. It had been a slow day, and the best he 
had done was to set someone's arm after that someone had taken a dive from 
a tree--the hard way. So he was more than willing to talk to Jamie and 
Dillon. He remembered Dillon from that chemical incident at the valley. 
The whole affair had been rather strange, and he still had a secret file 
of the blood tests that just were too weird to be forgotten.
     What he was not ready for was the entire truth about Dillon, Troy, 
and those kids. And after he had listened to the whole story, he leaned 
back in his chair. His face had been creased by a slight frown. "So that's 
why the test didn't jive. I think I get a pretty good idea just how far 
from Cleveland you come from. And as advanced as you obviously are, You 
need my help?"
     "Yes, Dr. Spencer," replied Lieutenant Dillon. "You see, there is one 
aboard our ship with a blood type which we can't handle, even with our 
technology. You know it as A-Negative."
     "Wait a minute." Dr. Spencer pushed back his hair. "How can that be?"
     "He wasn't born aboard the Galactica," Jamie responded. "They don't 
even know exactly where he comes from."
     "His name is Dr. Zee," Dillon added. "He's been doing a lot of 
research because of the incompatibility problems. And right now he needs 
massive reconstructive surgery. Our people have the technology to do the 
procedures; we just need the space, the A-Negative blood--a lot of it, and 
some help with compatible drugs."
     "Troy's gone to get Dr. Zee and the Galactican medical people," Jamie 
continued. "We've got to have the operating room and the blood in 
about--uh--"
     "Maybe an hour," was Dillon's conclusion.
     Dr. Spencer began playing with a pen on his desk. "How much do you 
think you'll need?"
     "Maybe four--I think you call it--gallons. Whatever you might use for 
very major open-heart and trauma surgery."
     "Ouch," breathed Dr. Spencer. "All right. I'll get the Red Cross on 
it right away.  It's a hard one to get on such short notice. I'm just glad 
you didn't ask for O-Negative. Then, you really might have been in serious 
trouble." He picked up his phone. "Valerie, I want to talk to you, alone." 
He then turned back to Dillon and Jamie. "If you two will step outside, I 
will keep you posted. But I think I'd better tell Valerie the whole story. 
I'll need her assistance."
     "Do whatever it is you think you need to do, and thanks." Dillon and 
Jamie turned to leave, but Dillon had to ask, "Dr. Spencer, O-Negative?"
     "One of the absolute toughest to get and sometimes the toughest."
     Dillon and Jamie left the office and got coffee. "Red Cross?" The 
question was written all over Dillon's face.
     "It's an organization that deals with blood donations and blood 
banks," explained Jamie. "People donate blood for use in surgeries. When 
they donate, they are also covered if they should need blood in the 
future. I guess you might call it a loan, too, because if the person is 
able to pay it back to the Red Cross, they should."
     "Dr. Zee couldn't pay back four gallons. In fact, he couldn't pay any 
at all because there are certain elements your bodies would probably 
reject."
     "In that case, someone else could pay back for him. I give about 
three pints a year, and I could credit them to his surgery.
     "It sure would take you a long time to pay back four gallons, 
though."
     Jamie thought about it and then laughed. "I guess it would."
     Dr. Spencer was able to procure the four gallons, and perhaps a bit 
more, from the Red Cross, and also briefed Valerie, swearing her to 
secrecy. Valerie gave her word, then stepped out to get coffee and try to 
let everything that had entered her ears sink into her head.
     Everything had been arranged, and now all that was left was the wait 
for the unusual staff and patient.

                              3. The Journey

     Meanwhile, Adama could do nothing but pace. The wait for Troy seemed 
interminably long. But Troy came. He walked into Life Center and Adama, 
feeling the strength all but leave his body, drew his grandson close. 
"Thank God you're here. Is everything all right? Have they--"
     "Yes, grandfather. My last communication with Dillon was just before 
I docked.  They're waiting for us."
     "Very well, I'll have Clare ready her team. We'll be using standard 
shuttle. It's smaller and easier to conceal."
     "Fine. Dillon will meet us with a van when we get to Earth and drive 
us to the clinic."
     Clare readied her team with full surgical equipment and dress, and 
Dr. Zee was ever so carefully moved into the shuttle. Troy felt his own 
chest tighten as he looked at the drained and agonized face of Dr. Zee and 
found himself breathing out a very shaken, "O shit!"
     The shuttle had a smooth lift-off, and it would only be a matter of 
minutes before they were planetside. Troy was piloting, and Adama sat 
close to Dr. Zee, trying to fight tears.
     Dr. Zee gazed into Adama's tortured face, then spoke, his voice 
measured and incredibly controlled. "Adama?"
     "Yes, Dr. Zee. I'm right here."
     "Adama, you above all have understood me in a way no one else 
possibly could. You took a great risk bringing me aboard, and you asked to 
be my guardian.  You loved me! And you've always been there."
     "Easy, Dr. Zee," Adama said gently, pushing some hair back from the 
boy's damp forehead. "You are like my own grandson. I could never desert 
you!"
     "I know, Adama. I've felt this for a long time, but, as you know, 
more than anyone, it is difficult for me to express my feelings. And now, 
I must tell you, for I may not ever get another chance." Adama suddenly 
noted tears forming in those green eyes. "Adama, I love you. I--" His 
words broke into a gasp of agony. His face twisted, and he could make no 
more effort to hide his pain as those tears flowed.
     Adama knew Dr. Zee had reached the braking point. How much more could 
he take? Dr. Zee's hand, regardless of the IV, reached for Adama's and 
pressed tightly. He was concentrating, teeth clenched, eyes wide. And 
Adama could do nothing but pray, his free hand smoothing Dr. Zee's hair 
which had become plastered with Perspiration.
     Clare, who had been deeply involved in conference with two other 
medics, turned and, seeing the expression on Adama's face and the 
perspiration on Dr.  Zee's, moved toward them and began a rapid computron 
examination. "Celesta!" she called to one of the other medics. "Get a 
breathe-assist, now!" The mask was flipped into place and the device began 
working, taking some of the burden of breathing for Dr. Zee.
     "Commander," Clare's voice was hardly above a whisper. "His 
arrhythmia's worse. Respirations are depressed, and his pressure is too 
low."
     "Is there anything we can do?" The commander looked stricken.
     Clare turned her head, avoiding the commander's eyes. "No," she 
replied. "I've tried to work up some adaptive medicines using information 
from Dr. Zee's special records. But I haven't come up with anything that 
would really do any good, and we dare not risk using our drugs."
     "Commander," Troy broke in "we're ready to land."
     The shuttle landed, and the medics moved Dr. Zee to the van where 
Dillon was waiting. After making sure that he was secure, and everyone 
else had loaded in, Dillon drove in the direction of the clinic. Adama 
could see other automobiles moving along the road at similar speed to 
their's.
     "Can't this vehicle move any faster?" he queried.
     Troy shook his head. "We're already pushing the regulation limit. 
Besides, it's not a good idea to take it too fast on the Ventura Freeway. 
A lot of people do, though, and a lot of accidents happen."
     "Besides which, I don't wanna have to try explaining all of this to a 
police officer who pulls us over for speeding," grumbled Dillon, who 
suddenly had to slam the van into a hard side-swing as another vehicle, 
horn blaring, cut in front of them to rush an exit ramp. "Damn it! Not 
now!" Dillon almost exploded.
     Clare's hand grabbed the breathe-assist to hold it in place, Celesta 
uttered something in Old Arian, and troy exhaled in exasperation, "Like I 
said, a lot of accidents--and we could have been one of them just now. 
Nice move, Dillon."
     "Thanks, I guess."
     "Just hope we don't have to make more of those nice moves," Clare's 
voice sounded pale.
     After about 20 more minutes of uneventful driving, they arrived at 
the clinic. "I've got to give Jamie the signal," Dillon warned, "so cover 
your ears."
     "What does he mean?" Adama looked at Troy, and was suddenly jarred by 
a rather loud HO-HO-ONK!
     Even though these were grim moments, Troy could not restrain a grin 
at Adama's expression. "Now you know," he laughed.
     The door of the clinic opened, and Dr. Spencer came out to meet them. 
After hasty introductions, Dr. Spencer looked at his patient. Then he 
looked at Troy. "Dr.  Zee?" was his question, puzzlement in his 
expression.
     "Yes," Troy replied, not understanding why Dr. Spencer was so 
puzzled.
     Dr. Spencer quickly recovered himself and apologized. "Forgive me, 
but I didn't expect such a young boy. I thought--"
     Adama broke in. "He is a very special young man with expertise in 
many areas, Dr. Spencer. And he's in your hands." Adama was displaying 
worry and distress in his face. "Please, take care of him."
     Dr. Spencer placed a reassuring hand on Adama's shoulder. "Don't 
worry, we will." Motioning to the medics, he continued, "Look, the O.R. is 
all set, and Valerie has the blood ready for transfusion. So, if you 
people will just come with me." Then he took in Adama, Troy and Dillon. 
"Jamie can show you to the waiting room.  You'll be more comfortable, and 
we'll update you as much as possible."
     Jamie, who had come out with Spencer, felt her throat close up as she 
saw Dr.  Zee. She looked toward Troy. "Oh, my Lord, that poor kid!" she 
exclaimed softly.  Then, clearing her throat, putting on her professional 
reporter face, added, "The Doc's right. We'll be more comfortable inside, 
and the waiting room is directly outside the operating room."
     Adama, Troy and Dillon followed Jamie into the waiting area, while 
the three Galactican medics, following Dr. Spencer, moved Dr. Zee into the 
O.R. Valerie had prepared so that they all could scrub, which they did. 
Dr. Spencer noted that there was one thing he had in common with these 
extraterrestrial medics--they all used similar techniques of scrubbing. 
But the Galacticans added some other touches--a sterile field generator 
and a sonic scrubbing, which Dr. Spencer found fascinating and wished he 
could add to his own procedures. Then the three Galacticans almost 
concealed themselves entirely in surgical dress, while Dr. Spencer used 
his customary attire. Spencer's nurse, Valerie, was also in surgical garb.
     Clare explained briefly to Dr. Spencer the type of surgery he would 
be watching.  "The reconstruction is massive," she explained, "and the 
techniques I would not expect you to understand completely. But what we 
need help with is a drug which will put him under for this procedure. I 
think you call it pentathal."
     "Yes, Clare, sodium pentathal. Can you estimate how long this 
procedure will take?" asked Spencer.
     "It's difficult to say precisely, but it will probably take--oh three 
or four hours Earth time."
     His eyes widened. "But you're talking about major reconstruction!"
     "Yes," replied Clare, "with procedures which are far in advance of 
your own."
     "Yeah, that's true." Spencer shrugged. This was going to take some 
getting used to, particularly that, with all their advancements, they 
needed him, his knowledge of twentieth century Earth medicine, and four 
gallons of A-Negative blood.
     He turned to his nurse. "Valerie, ready the sodium pent, and a pre-op 
sedation." Then to Clare, "Can you give me a height and weight estimate?"
     "Your measurements, 5 ft. 4 inches, 120 pounds."
     And the procedures began.

                               4. Long Hours

     The waiting room was totally empty with the exception of one shaken 
UBC TV reporter, Jamie Hamilton, and three high-strung Galacticans, Adama, 
Dillon, and Troy. Jamie wished there was something she could do to break 
the tension, just a bit, and quietly told the others that she was going to 
get some coffee. Dillon asked for light with sugar, Troy wanted light with 
no sugar. Adama was totally unsure and finally said that whatever Troy was 
having, he would take.
     Dillon went with Jamie to assist her with the coffee, leaving Troy 
and Adama alone in the waiting room. They sat, just looking at each other, 
and intermittently, at the door of the O.R. Finally, Troy spoke. 
"Grandfather, I just want to say I--I'm sorry. I mean, all these years 
I've been sort of a surrogate brother since you took his guardianship, but 
I could never get close. There were just too many things I couldn't 
understand about him. With all his intelligence, I guess it never occurs 
to me that there is another side to him-- a boy who probably feels an 
awful lot of pressure, and who may die in there." Troy slammed his hand on 
a small table beside his chair. "It's just that Dr. Zee always seems 
so--well--indestructible! but he really isn't! and if anything goes wrong, 
I don't think I'll ever forgive myself for not being what a brother should 
be and not trying to understand him!"
     "Boxey, I think we're all guilty of misunderstanding Dr. Zee."
     "Not you." Troy showed surprise. "Out of everybody you were always 
able to figure him out."
     "Not always. There are still many things I do not know." Adama rose 
and paced.  "And, unfortunately, there are some things I do know but 
cannot understand fully, and I know that lack of understanding has cost 
Dr. Zee dearly." The pain in Adama's face was heart-felt. "And there are 
many things I truly wish I could have shared with you--things which might 
help you to understand him better. I only pray that the Lord will give us 
time--" His sentence dropped off and he just continued pacing.
     Troy joined his grandfather and they both paced. "I wonder where 
Dillon and Jamie are," he said, trying to sound a bit lighter and failing.
     At that point the two walked in, armed with coffee. The cups were 
distributed, they all sat down, and Adama peeled the lid from the cup. He 
stared at the strange liquid. Then he tasted. Then lifting his eyes toward 
Jamie's, he asked incredulously, "You can drink this stuff?" Adama turned 
his eyes to Troy and Dillon and noted they were calmly drinking the liquid 
from their cups.
     "I guess you have to acquire a taste for it," replied Dillon. "Troy 
took to it like a fish to water. I--uh--I had to work on it."
     "At least you've got some trimming," smiled Troy. "Jamie drinks hers 
straight!"
     "Well, I suppose I am one who may have to acquire the taste." And 
Adama sipped again. His face wrinkled. "Disgusting!"
     The procedures were under way. Dr. Spencer watched as the Galactican 
team under Clare's supervision began the reconstruction of the right rib 
cage. "Good.  Good." Clare seemed pleased at something.
     "If you don't mind my asking, why are you working the right first? 
From what I can see, the left ribs are more in distress," observed 
Spencer.
     "That is true," replied Clare. "However, we had to work the right 
first in order to establish whether or not there was a pneumothorax or 
collapse of the right lung.  Conclusions indicate neither process."
     "I'm confused," Spencer shook his head slightly. "You mean you 
couldn't tell from those--um--computron scans?"
     "The scans have limits," was Celesta's soft-spoken response.
     "Yes," added Clare, "and with some of Dr. Zee's physiological and 
biochemical processes being so different from the rest of us, and not ever 
having to perform an intervention like this before on him, well--I know 
there are times when exploratory surgery is necessary on Earth, too."
     "That's certainly true," agreed Spencer. I can't deny that."
     "What's his pressure?" asked Clare.
     Spencer examined. "BP 90/60. Valerie, what's on the scope?"
     Valerie examined the running monitor, and after what seemed like an 
eternity responded. "There is still arrhythmia, Dr. Spencer."
     The third medic, Trent, who was basically a monitor, scanned with his 
own scanner and confirmed.
     "What about the blood? What have we got left?"
     "Blood?" Valerie seemed to go blank.
     "Yes, Valerie! The Blood."
     "Oh, we have about three-and-a-half gallons left."
     Spencer was becoming increasingly annoyed at the slowness of 
Valerie's responses. As a desk nurse, and as far as simplistic functions 
were concerned, i.e.  blood sampling, urinalysis, keeping excited 
relatives calm, etc. she was excellent.  As a surgical assistant--.
     "Dr. Spencer," Clare's voice interrupted his thoughts. "This is the 
hard part. We are about to regraft the breast bone to the left stable 
ribs. Yes, there are two ribs which are still quite unimpaired."
     "Right, Clare, I'm with you."
     "I want you to keep your eyes on that monitor, and be ready with 
whatever tools you use in case of cardiac shock, etc." Then, turning back 
to her team, "Elevation of breast bone, now."
     Spencer moved beside Valerie, eyes pasted to the monitor. He could 
see fluctuations, then, "Trouble; heart's double-time!" His eyes fixed on 
Valerie. "Get me the Digi, .25cc! Valerie! Move!"
     Valerie grabbed the Digitalis and measured--2.5cc--then handed it to 
Dr.  Spencer. Spencer, not realizing what had been measured injected into 
the heart muscle. He turned his gaze to the scope, breathing a sigh of 
relief as the heart began to slow back to normal.
     Then the sigh of relief turned into a choke of terror as the heart 
continued to slow--60 beats, 50, 35, 20--Flat Line!
     "What happened," gasped Clare. "He was holding his own--"
     "We can't lose him now!" cried Trent.
     "We won't!" replied Spencer, snatching a vile of epinephrine and 
measuring.  Then he noted the size of the syringe Valerie had laid aside 
from the Digitalis. His mouth dropped open, his stomach tumbled. "Valerie! 
What the hell did you do! I asked for .25 not 2.5!"
     Valerie turned beet red. She knew if anything happened she was 
responsible.  Spencer injected .02 micrograms Epinephrine intracardiac and 
massaged. He reached the empty syringe to Valerie, who took it, tripped, 
and dumped a tray of sutures. Everyone gasped. Spencer looked up from 
massaging the heart and yelled for all he was worth. "Get out of here." 
And Valerie did, running to the outer dressing chamber and ditching 
surgery dress. Tears glistened in her eyes; her hands were trembling.
     Spencer continued massaging. "Come on, kid, get going. Get going. All 
Right!" The heart began beating, picking up and holding at 75 beats per 
minute. Spencer straightened, smiled weakly and said to the team, "He's 
all right. Go ahead and finish. But I'll tell you, that was close."
     After exclamations of relief and thanks that Dr. Spencer had been 
there with the needed medicines, the Galacticans continued the most 
difficult portion of the procedures--regrafting the breast bone and 
rebuilding the left rib cage.
     In the meantime, while all of this had been going on, the commander, 
Troy, Dillon and Jamie sat and waited. Jamie was praying, Dillon was 
trying to concentrate his attentions on some rather ridiculous 
advertising, Troy sat and looked at Adama, and Adama finished his second 
cup of coffee.
     "What I don't understand, Grandfather, is why you got a second? I 
mean--"
     "As Dillon pointed out," responded Adama, swallowing, "I may be 
acquiring the taste." A tight little smile formed. Then he rose, disposed 
of the empty second cup, and slipped out to the machine for another.
     Upon his return, he noted a man with a rather blank expression 
mopping the floor.
     "Watch out, suh, flog's wet," he said noting Adama's eyes on him.
     "Yes, thank you, I can see that," replied the commander, not sure 
what else he could say.
     "That is a strange-lookin' suit you' got. What you deeskized as?"
     "Well, I really--uh--I find it comfortable." Adama headed for the 
waiting room.
     "Hey, Mista," called the maintenance man. Adama turned. "You' got a 
smoke?" Noting Adama's expression he continued with a slightly exasperated 
breath, "You know--a ceegahr."
     "No, I don't."
     "What about them dudes in there? Ain't one of 'em got nothin'?"
     Adama shook his head and returned to the waiting room. A few minutes 
later, in walked the maintenance man mop in hand, trailing water along the 
floor. Everyone sat and waited, watching while the man went about his 
business, giving a haphazard work-up to the floor. When he finished, he 
turned to Jamie and grinned.  "Hey, shugah, you' got a smoke?" Troy could 
see him eyeing the ashtray beside Jamie which did have some of her 
cigarette filters in it.
     Jamie gave him her sugariest smile. "Oh, I just finished my last one. 
I'm so sorry," she replied.
     The man looked around, then walked out muttering. "Bruhthuh, a dude 
cain't get nothin' 'round here 'sept cut up.
     The man left with mop in hand and Jamie quickly pulled out another 
cigarette, lighting it hastily. "He gives me the creeps," she murmured.
     It was at that moment the O.R.'s outer door opened and Valerie flew 
out--really flew--sliding across the wet floor, landing in the lap of a 
rather astonished Commander Adama. His arm supported the red-faced girl. 
"What happened? Are you all right?" Adama helped her to her feet.
     Valerie opened her mouth to speak, and choked, "I'm--I'm sorry, 
really I--I--" She turned, tears in eyes and dashed out the door.
     Dillon, endeavoring to keep a straight face, was choking on 
suppressed laughter, which gurgled out after she had disappeared. Jamie 
just threw back her head and went quietly hysterical. And Troy very calmly 
walked over to the still astonished Adama, placed a hand on his shoulder 
and stated, "Well, Grandfather, you still have that magic way with women."
     Astonishment turned to a tight smile, which then turned to open 
laughter, as he replied, "Boxey, that is one thing a good commander never 
loses."
     Calm was finally restored, which then turned into more pensive 
waiting. Finally Dillon spoke a bit hesitantly. "I can't help wondering 
why Valerie ran out like that.  What happened in there?"
     "I don't know," Troy frowned. "She did seem awfully upset."
     After a total of about three-and-a-half hours, the door of the O.R. 
opened; this time Dr. Spencer emerged with a definite smile. No one had to 
ask what was happening. They all but swamped the doctor, and he pressed 
each of their hands in turn saying, I guess you've all figured out that 
it's okay. Clare and her team are finishing up the last whatever. It was 
touch-and-go for a while, but he's going to be just fine."
     Jamie hugged Troy, her face against his shoulder. "Thank God!" she 
whispered. And Troy drew her close.
     Adama, making no effort to hide his relief, grasped Dr. Spencer's 
hand. "The word 'thanks' is not enough to express my gratitude for your 
help."
     Spencer smiled, responding to the hand clasp. "Your people did all 
the real work," he said. "They're fine medics. I'd be happy to work with 
them any time."
     "Is Val okay, Doc?" asked Dillon, and wished he hadn't when he saw 
the look Dr. Spencer tried to suppress.
     He cleared his throat. "Val doesn't usually assist me on major 
surgery, and things got--well--a little rough in there."
     Dillon could see that Spencer didn't wish to elaborate. "I was just 
sort of concerned."
     The doctor smiled slightly. "Thanks, Dillon. I'll let her know. 
She'll be okay."
     Adama asked how long it would be before he could speak with Dr. Zee.  
Spencer shook his head. "I have no idea, Commander, If this were my 
surgery, I would say he wouldn't be able to talk to you for another 12 
hours, but since your operations are so radically different, I just can't 
say. If you can wait a minute, I'll stick my head in there and ask."

                                5. Recovery

     Upon re-entering the O.R., he was surprised to see Clare actually 
talking with Dr. Zee. He wasn't saying much, responding with mostly nods, 
but Spencer did get the impression this was mostly due to the effects of 
the sodium pentathal.  Celesta and Trent were running their equipment 
through the sterile field generator and sonic. Celesta smiled that 
incredibly serene smile at Dr. Spencer. "Anything you want me to run 
through here for you?"
     Spencer had to smile in return. "No thanks, Celesta. The syringes are 
disposable." He found himself drawing closer just to watch her. She seemed 
so stable and so competent. The devices were fascinating, too. "Hmm--" but 
he clamped his mouth shut. No, he shouldn't ask that; it sounded dumb.
     Celesta lifted those calm, smiling eyes and winked at him. 
"Hmm--what?" was her soft-spoken query.
     "Oh," Spencer seemed a bit embarrassed. "I just couldn't help but 
think what a neat job that thing would do on jewelry."
     Celesta showed no surprise. In fact a little mischief seemed to come 
into her eyes. "It does great, so long as it's true silver or aureg or 
what--not painted."
     "Aureg?"
     Clare had turned to join the group. "Gold," she interpreted.
     The doctor nodded. "Yeah, it's gold with a large diamond."
     "Have it here?" asked Celesta.
     "As a matter of fact, I sure do. It's in my office down the hall. 
It's--well, it's kind o' special."
     "I'm not going anywhere for a little while." Celesta winked at him 
and returned to her work.
     Dr. Spencer turned to Clare. "How's the boy doing?"
     "He's doing fairly well, but it's probably the sodium pentathal or 
something; he says he is experiencing slight bouts of nausea and some 
dizziness."
     "Yup, probably the residual effects of the sodium pent. Give it a 
couple hours; no food, just keep an IV Glucose on him." He had turned to 
look at Dr. Zee, and found himself stammering slightly in astonishment. 
"No bandages? What about drainage tubes and--"
     Clare gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "No need with our 
techniques.  You see that interesting gadget Trent is so desperately 
trying to stuff in that case?" She had started to laugh, and Trent 
groaned.
     "You could give me some help with it, you know," he grumbled, giving 
Clare his most hurt look.
     Clare snickered, going over to Trent to hold the case while he 
inserted the pieces of equipment. "Anyway," she continued, smiling over 
her shoulder at Spencer, "this is a dermal grafter or bonder. It seals the 
skin allowing it to regenerate and heal itself more accurately." Then, to 
Trent, "All right, you're on your own." Trent shrugged a thanks.
     "As far as the draining tubes you referred to," Clare shook her head, 
"our procedures don't cause the tissue damage, swelling, creation of 
fluids which you're accustomed to seeing. No excess fluids, no need for 
drainage. In fact, by our standards, once that pentathal stuff wears off, 
he could probably return to full duty in less than a week."
     "Oh, my!" breathed Spencer, an incredulous look on his face. Then 
reality seemed to snap him back. "Oh, yeah, I was supposed to ask you how 
long before Adama could talk to him."
     Dr. Zee lifted his hand and nodded slightly. Clare held Dr. Zee's 
eyes and shook her head firmly. "No! Not yet. I want to wait until this 
pentathal stuff wears off more." She could see he was about to say 
something, and did something she never thought she could do to Dr. Zee of 
all people; she clamped her hand over his mouth gently, but firmly, and 
whispered very close to his ear, "Consider yourself overruled, Dr. Zee."
     Since Dr. Zee was not one to express emotion very openly, Clare had 
to grin as she saw a rather astonished look on his face which turned to a 
slight smile.
     Spencer had gone to stand beside Dr. Zee. He could see an IV in the 
boy's left hand, a small device like a monitor or something on his right 
wrist which looked like an oversized digital watch, and no trace of any 
other surgical reminders. His thought processes spun. This was the most 
incredible experience of his life, he realized, and he just wanted to 
treasure every moment with these people. It would be better to get them 
out of here, though, and into a recovery room or something.
     "Doc," Clare's hand was on his arm. He looked into her concerned but 
smiling face. "Are you all right?"
     "Yes, I'm okay," he laughed. I was just thinking that it might be 
better to move us out of here and to a private room or something. I'll go 
check what we've got."
     "Fine," Clare nodded. "And tell the commander that when this stuff 
wears off he can talk to Dr. Zee."
     "Well, it's usually two to four hours; should I tell him that?"
     "Yes," replied Clare.
     "And bring back that special item, Dr. Spencer," was Celesta's gentle 
reminder, that mischievous glint in her eyes.
     Spencer was laughing as he returned to Adama and the rest of the 
group. "We figure somewhere between two and four hours, Commander," he 
smiled. "The drug we used as an anesthesia hasn't totally worn off yet and 
Dr. Zee is feeling it-- some nausea and grogginess. Otherwise, he's in 
phenomenal shape."
     "Thank you," was Adama's heart-felt response.
     "I'm gonna go and book a private room so we can free up the operating 
room." He turned to leave, but Jamie suddenly jumped up and stepped in 
front of him.
     "Do you really think that's a good idea?" she asked hesitantly. "I 
mean--yeah-- we should free up the O.R., but could we move him out of 
here? To someone's home?" She paused and added softly, "Someone who knows 
these people?"
     "What have you got in mind, Jamie?" asked Troy.
     "I was thinking of Dr. Mortonson's place," she replied after an 
uncertain breath.  "I just thought that beach front would be relaxing, and 
I'm sure he'd love to open his library to Dr. Zee."
     "Actually, that's not a bad idea," Dillon agreed with a grin. "They'd 
get along great!"
     "Um--hold up just one minute!" Dr. Spencer lifted his hand. "I don't 
want him out of here until I'm sure he isn't going to have any 
complications from the sodium pentathal. This is all new stuff, and I 
think Clare would agree with me on this one."
     Adama nodded and sighed slightly. "Yes, he is right about that; this 
is all 'new stuff', as you call it. It's a good idea, Jamie, but I feel it 
would be a risk to move Dr.  Zee from here should he be in need of another 
medicine or have problems with this one."
     "Yeah," Jamie rested her chin in her hand. "I guess you're right. But 
once he's in the clear, he will need a couple days rest, right?"
     "Indeed," replied Adama. "And Dr. Mortonson's home sounds like an 
ideal situation."
     "Well, tell ya what," Spencer scratched his head. "You make 
arrangements on your end. Meanwhile, I'll pull a private room for now."
     They agreed, and Dr. Spencer went to perform his errands--securing a 
room and gathering that special item from his desk. It was his mother's 
engagement ring which he wanted to present to his girlfriend on her 
birthday, two days from now.
     He entered the operating room with a small box for Celesta who smiled 
when she opened it. "For some special woman?" she asked. Spencer nodded, 
realizing his color was rising. Celesta laughed slightly, but her gaze was 
firm and steady as she stated, "She'd better treat you real good, Doctor 
Friend."
     Dr. Spencer felt a warm feeling rush up inside him. Celesta was the 
oldest of the three, with grey hair and a kind, wise, yet mischievous 
face. For a moment, he could almost sense a maternal protectiveness toward 
him, and he appreciated it.
     Trent was the youngest of the group, a man in his early twenties 
sporting a crop of fiery red hair that looked like he had just stuck his 
finger into an electric outlet.  He had a contagious grin and truly seemed 
to love what he did.
     Clare was probably in her early thirties, capable of great 
professionalism, but ready to smile or laugh when the opportunity 
presented itself. Spencer smiled to himself as he pictured the interaction 
that had occurred between her and Trent.  Now he watched her as she pulled 
a band from a waste pack to secure her thick black hair, pulling it back 
from her face and forehead.
     She smiled now as she looked up at Dr. Spencer. "You look like you 
have a question or something."
     "Yeah--no, actually I was gonna tell you all that we're moving out of 
here and to a private room on the second floor. This way, we can free up 
the O.R., but there will be plenty of space to hang out."
     "Hang out?" queried Trent. "I kind o' like the sound of that. What's 
'hang out'?"
     Clare laughed. "I think he means a place where we can congregate with 
no disturbance."
     Trent muttered, "Why didn't I bring that computron thing with me!"
     Celesta gave a dry laugh. "Perhaps your mind was elsewhere." Then to 
Spencer, she added, "It's done, Doctor, all beautiful again."
     It was, indeed, shining and polished-looking, the diamond seeming to 
sparkle more brilliantly than it ever had. "Oh, wow!" he softly exclaimed. 
"Thanks! It is beautiful!" Celesta just smiled softly and placed the 
equipment into it's container.
     Dr. Spencer looked across at Dr. Zee who just seemed to be silently 
observing everything and everyone around him. Dr. Zee's color was much 
better and he was now sitting on the table examining the monitor on his 
wrist. Clare came to him and looked at the monitor, too. Spencer, slipping 
the ring box into his pocket, joined them.
     "How are you feeling now?" he smiled at Dr. Zee.
     Dr. Zee turned his gaze to Dr. Spencer and spoke slowly, as if he was 
having trouble finding the correct words. "I am well, thank you. But I 
cannot seem to focus my vision clearly on objects, and the nausea--" For a 
moment his breath seemed to catch. Then he continued, his lips a bit 
tighter, "is extremely persistent."
     A thoughtful frown crossed Dr. Spencer's face. "Ya know," he began 
slowly, "maybe some mint would help. You guys have something that can tell 
you if peppermint would be negatively reactive?"
     "Sure," replied Clare, tapping into the device on Dr. Zee's wrist 
which was obviously a lot more than just a simple monitor. Spencer could 
see him trying to focus his eyes on it, too. "Peppermint," stated Clare, 
"an herb and/or flavoring used in tea, candy and toothpaste?" Dr. Spencer 
nodded and smiled as he read over her shoulder. She continued, "Used in 
natural medicine to help alleviate certain types of nausea; a cooling 
herb/agent." She smiled. "I don't think it would react negatively. What 
can we use?"
     "Hang tight. I always have a bag in my office. I love 'em." he 
slipped out to his office to procure the hard candies, leaving Clare with 
a puzzled look.
     "Hang tight?" She shook her head. "Will we ever learn all these 
colloquialisms!"
     Dr. Zee managed to pull up the reference. "Remaining at position; 
holding a thought; staying put," he read slowly.
     Clare exhaled and read the rest of the reference as Dr. Zee was still 
having difficulty holding the display in focus. "Similar or equivalent 
statements depending on context: 'Hang,' 'hang in,' 'hang out' and 'hang 
loose'?" Her expression turned to complete confusion. "I'm lost!"
     Her eyes met Dr. Zee's; he looked almost as confused as she did. 
"Diametrically opposed, yet--" His face paled and his lips tightened 
again.
     "More nausea?" Clare wished there was something she could do 
immediately, but she was helpless.
     Dr. Spencer re-entered at that moment holding a large plastic bag. He 
quickly unwrapped a disk-shaped item and handed it to Dr. Zee. "Just suck 
on this and see if it helps," he said, placing the bag within easy reach.
     Peppermints turned out to be the answer, and Dr. Zee kept one in his 
mouth for the next two-and-a-half hours until the pentathal finally wore 
off. During that time, he had been moved to the large private room Dr. 
Spencer had appropriated, and soon after that, Clare told the commander he 
could talk with Dr. Zee. "As long as he doesn't move his head too fast, 
he'll be fine, and that's fading, too," she told Adama.
     He thanked her, walking into the room as the other two medics with 
their hands full of equipment left to load the van.
     Dr. Zee turned his head very slowly toward Adama who sat down close 
to him and smiled. "This sodium pentathal," said Adama slowly, "seems like 
nasty stuff.  How long do you think you'll have to put up with these 
effects?"
     "It is better," and, pointing to the peppermint bag, "and these do 
help a great deal." He unwrapped one, placing it in his mouth and tossing 
the wrapper into the small trash can beside him. "I can handle this, 
Adama. The drug is indeed potent, but should be totally subsided in, 
perhaps two more hours."
     "The plan is to move you to Dr. Mortonson's home for a few days rest. 
I understand he has an extensive library; he may have more information on 
some of Earth's drugs."
     Dr. Zee took a long slow breath and then, just as slowly, let it out. 
"I would much prefer to return to the Galactica as soon as possible, 
Adama. However, it would probably be best for me to remain on Earth for a 
short while should any complications arise which would require Dr. 
Spencer's intervention. Though such probabilities are minimal--"
     Adama smiled. "Better to be safe than sorry."
     "Adama?"
     "Something I learned from Troy," laughed Commander Adama. "It's a 
rather well-known saying here on Earth."
     Dr. Zee nodded slightly. "Yes, I believe that expression would be 
appropriate."
 
                       6. Where Do We Go From Here?

     Jamie had gone to make a couple of phone calls, while Troy, Dillon, 
Celesta and Trent were loading the bulk of the equipment back into the RV.
     "Troy," said Dillon thoughtfully, "I just realized something."
     "Yeah? What's that?"
     Dillon reflected a moment, then exclaimed, "I'm starving!" Snickers 
came from both Celesta and Trent.
     Troy looked at the time and laughed, "Uhhuh, I'm not surprised. Hope 
Jamie warns Dr. Mortonson he may have some hungry people on his doorstep."
     "Forget Mortonson; I mean now!" was Dillon's desperate plea. "We 
could go to that pizza place down the road and get an extra huge."
     Troy vacillated. "I don' know. Maybe we should wait and see when 
we're going to move out. Besides, the pizza in that place isn't the 
greatest."
     "No, but it's edible and filling. Or would you rather do the Chinese 
place?"
     Trent looked at Celesta who spoke in her mild tone, "Why don't you 
all just hang tight. I'll go find out what the latest news is." She turned 
to walk back into the clinic.
     Troy and Dillon looked at each other and started to laugh. Troy sat 
down on the step of the van and said smiling, "That Celesta! She's 
starting to sound like she belongs here."
     Trent, who had squeezed out of the RV door past Troy and dropped 
beside him had to laugh, too. "You should have seen Dr. Zee's face when he 
looked that expression up--total confusion. I never ever thought I'd see 
him confused about anything!"
     Dillon and Troy had never looked the reference up in the computron; 
they had just learned by listening. So Dillon brought it up for display as 
he said, "You're right, Trent. Dr. Zee? Confused? That's a contradiction 
in terms."
     But as he and Troy read the display, Troy had to snicker. "I've gotta 
give him this one, Dillon. This reference is a contradiction in terms."
     Celesta caught up with Clare who told her that Jamie was making some 
calls, but things would probably move in an hour. "The drug hasn't totally 
subsided, but as long as he doesn't move fast to trigger the dizziness, 
and keeps a supply of those--um--peppermints handy, things should be all 
right," was Clare's assessment. "Dr. Spencer says Dr. Zee should try some 
simple broth and something called 'ginger ail' in an hour or so, too, and 
then he can eat normally come morning."
     "Well, I just need to tell those boys something, Clare," Celesta 
leaned against a table. "They're starving out there, and the talk is of 
getting something called a 'pizza'." She looked it up in her computron. 
Clare stepped beside her to read the reference, too. "MM--sounds tasty."
     Clare knitted her brow, then fingered her chin and looked at Celesta. 
"Tell them to go get this pizza thing. We should all eat something. This 
whole thing, I think, has drained us out. And if they can find some of 
this broth thing, they should bring it back, too."
     Celesta returned to the van to give the verdict. Dillon and Troy 
looked at each other, eyes gleaming. "Let's go!" and then turning to 
Trent, Troy added, "Wanna come with?" The three jumped into the van.
     Celesta smiled and waved as they pulled out, then went back into the 
clinic.  Jamie and Dr. Spencer were just coming out of his office. Jamie 
looked tired and a little disgusted. "Well," she breathed, meeting 
Celesta's ever-mild, gentle eyes, "looks like things are swinging in a 
different direction than I thought they would. Dr. Mortonson's gotta leave 
town for a physicists convention, so the only other place is the Alanzos' 
farm. Dr. Zee knows the place, but--"
     "But?" Celesta's eyes didn't waver.
     "That's a two-and-a-half-hour drive from here," said Spencer. "I 
think he can handle it, but we'd better tell Clare and see what she 
thinks."
     "All right, you two tell Clare. I personally think Dr. Zee wouldn't 
have a problem, not in that RV thing. I'll go sit on those nice front 
steps and enjoy the lovely evening and wait for the men to get back."
     "Where'd they go?" Spencer looked surprised.
     "Tracking down a pizza," was Celesta's calm response, "and some broth 
and that ginger stuff you recommended."
     Jamie rested her forehead against the wall. It felt cool and soothing 
to her slightly aching head. "Bless them." there was a sort of relief in 
her voice. "I was going to suggest that."
     The news of the change in plans was brought to Clare, Adama and Dr. 
Zee. No complaints came from Clare; she felt that Dr. Zee was through the 
worst of the effects of the pentathal. Adama's reaction was gratitude to 
the Alanzos for all they were doing to accommodate the Galacticans. Dr. 
Zee seemed to show a momentary hesitation, but indicated he would do his 
best to assimilate into that environment.
     Adama had noted the hesitation, getting the impression that Dr. Zee 
had some concern. Adama tried to think of what could possibly be the 
difficulty. It came in a flash. The Galactican children were there on that 
farm, and several years before a difficulty of some sort had occurred 
involving Dr. Zee and one of those children, Wellington. He knew he would 
have to have a private word with Dr. Zee to confirm this as the reason for 
the hesitation.
     Dr. Zee was standing now, his hand resting on a table for support.  
Clare was checking him over. "Do you think you can walk straight if you 
focus on a single stable object?" she asked quietly.
     "I believe so," and, fixing his eyes on the door, walked slowly 
towards it.
     The door suddenly opened, and Celesta gave Dr. Zee an easy smile, 
saying, "Good to see you on your feet again, Dr. Zee." She could see he 
was about to nod an acknowledgement and quickly lifted her hand to stop 
him. "I wouldn't do that just yet."
     "Indeed, agreed," he replied, turning slowly and, keeping the window 
as his stable object, moved to sit down in a chair.
     Celesta walked behind him to ensure he got there safely, then turned 
and said, "Whoever is starving, there's a pizza on it's way up here--and 
it looks very tasty."
     She regarded Dr. Zee and added, "Troy's also got some vegetable broth 
and something called 'ginger ail' which Dr. Spencer feels will sit well 
with your stomach."
     They all congregated for pizza, which Adama and the medics found to 
be indeed quite interesting and tasty. Dillon's only real complaint was 
that the pizza place could have been a little more generous with the 
artichokes. Dr. Zee slowly drank broth and ginger ail, stating he felt it 
was indeed helping his situation.
     Then they got ready to move out, saying goodbye to Dr. Spencer and 
thanking him for his help and accommodations. The doctor promised Dillon 
he would go over to Valerie's place immediately and make sure she was 
okay.
     "Dr. Spencer," he turned and saw Celesta's slightly mischievous 
smile. "I hope she likes it."
     "Me, too," breathed Dr. Spencer. "It's--well, we call it an 
engagement ring. It was my mother's and--well, I'm giving it to Sally, my 
girl, and--"
     Celesta leaned towards him. "I'm assuming you mean marriage, doctor 
friend?" she smiled. "This Sally had better appreciate the kind-hearted 
man she's getting."
     Dr. Spencer was deeply touched by Celesta's gentleness and deep 
perception.  He suddenly reached out and hugged her gently. "Thank you, 
Celesta. You seem like a very special lady, yourself."
     Celesta responded to the hug with one of her own and then turned to 
the RV.
     Spencer watched the RV pull out. He could see Troy was driving this 
time.  Resting his chin on his hand, he turned toward his car. He would 
have to talk to Valerie. He felt sorry for her; she could be a good nurse, 
but not in a pressure situation. He would probably have to let her go, he 
thought. But this wouldn't be easy--not by a longshot.

                          7. Risk and Revelation

     After more like four hours and a flat tire later, with the clock 
showing 2:30 a.m., a weary band of travelers reached the Alanzo farm. 
Hector had kept the back light on and had left a note on the kitchen table 
stating that the "kids are bedded down in the barn and there's salad and 
leftovers in the icebox." The note also let them know where they could 
move their "friend".
     "Looks like a nice place," mused Trent softly. They were all standing 
in the kitchen, including Dr. Zee, who had come fully free of the effects. 
Troy murmured something about more lights and went in search of a switch.
     Suddenly, rattle--rattle--crash! Jamie's hand flew to her mouth with 
a gasp of, "Oh, Lord, Troy, are you okay?"
     The lights came on and Troy's expression was a cross between laughter 
and embarrassment. "Maria must have been cleaning today. She left the mob 
in front of the switch and I knocked it over into that bunch of pots."
     There were sounds of suppressed laughter all around him ranging from 
chuckles to attempts at concealing hysteria. Troy looked at the faces of 
the group, and found himself particularly searching Dr. Zee's. He was as 
close to a smile as Troy had ever seen him.
     Dillon finally spoke. "And now that you woke the whole house up," and 
went to help Troy gather the two pots and stack them as neatly as 
possible.
     Troy exhaled. "Sorry."
     Footsteps were heard at that moment and two figures in night clothes 
with sleepy eyes but welcoming smiles entered and were introduced to the 
group.
     "It's my fault," laughed Maria Alanzo. She picked up the mop and 
opened a small closet. "I usually keep it in here out of the way."
     Hector Alanzo's eyes suddenly glinted with mischief. "Aw, Mama, I 
thought you left it there so it could properly greet our new guests," he 
teased.
     Maria picked up a dishcloth and swatted Hector with it, saying in 
mild exasperation, "That's my husband. But he's got a good 
heart--somewhere in there."
     Punchiness had settled into everyone, and laughter came almost too 
easily.  Clare finally managed to wipe tears of laughter from her eyes. 
"We should let Dr.  Zee rest, now."
     "Judging by the looks on your faces," replied Hector gently, you 
could all use a rest. I thought you'd be here a couple of hours ago."
     "We had a flat," Troy told him.
     Dillon added wearily, "Yeah, and the closest gas station was closed, 
so we had to limp along on the doughnut for another five miles--slow going 
with a vehicle that size."
     "You should have called me!" Hector shook his head at Troy, Dillon 
and Jamie.  "I could have met you with my truck and at least brought Dr. 
Zee and a couple of your medical people back here."
     "We thought about that," said Jamie, "but I think by that time we 
were all getting punchy and just couldn't think straight."
     "Well, you're here now, and don't look too much the worse for wear," 
smiled Hector. He turned to Dr. Zee, Adama and the medics. "I'll show you 
a room. There are extra blankets and pillows in the closet up there."
     Adama hoped that he would have a chance to speak with Dr. Zee as soon 
as he could have a few moments alone with him. Hector pointed to one room 
which Clare and Celesta could use, and another which he thought would be 
good for Dr. Zee.  Looking at Adama and Trent he said slowly, "The bed's 
big enough so one of you could stay with Dr. Zee, but the other will 
either have to sleep on the livingroom couch or camp out in the barn with 
the rest of the gang."
     "Where are Dillon, Troy and Jamie going?" asked Clare.
     "They have their spots marked out in the barn," Hector laughed, 
"that's provided Wellington didn't steal Dillon's spot in the loft."
     Adama couldn't help but notice a slight facial flinch from Dr. Zee 
when Wellington's name was mentioned and wondered if anyone else had 
noticed it, too. There were still mysteries surrounding the apparent 
trouble between those two. Adama needed answers if he was going to provide 
Dr. Zee with any reassurance or help.
     "Perhaps I'll remain here," smiled Adama. "I'm afraid this body of 
mine is too old for barn floors."
     Trent grinned at him. "That's fine with me, Commander. The barn 
sounds like it could be fun."
     So off he went with Hector, Clare gave Dr. Zee one last scan and 
pronounced him in excellent condition, Clare and Celesta went into their 
room and closed the door, and now Adama could have a private conversation 
with Dr. Zee.
     He closed the door and looked around. Hector had shown them the 
lights, so they would know how to turn them off when they were ready. Dr. 
Zee sat down on the bed; Adama dropped beside him and placed a hand on the 
boy's shoulder.  After a long pause, Adama spoke. "You are concerned about 
having to deal with Wellington, aren't you?"
     "Adama, I am concerned," Dr. Zee rose and began to pace. "I do not 
believe that he has forgotten what happened to him because of me."
     "How can you be so sure?" queried the commander.
     Dr. Zee stopped before the commander, took a deep breath and looked 
out through the window at the vast expanse of farm land which the 
Galacticans had been able to cultivate and use to assist them when their 
agro ships were damaged by the Cylons.
     Finally he turned back to Adama. "I tried to apologize to him both in 
person and by communique."
     "Yes, I know you did."
     "What you do not know is that I did receive a brief message from him. 
'I'll find some way to get you,' it said."
     "But, Dr. Zee, that was seven years ago," protested Commander Adama.  
"Wellington is older now. Perhaps he can realize now that what happened 
was an unexpected occurrence--an accident. He recovered from his injuries 
which were not that severe."
     "Adama," Dr. Zee looked suddenly like he was about to explode. Adama 
felt his heart skip a beat. The last time he had seen that look was just 
after that incident seven years before. "You did not understand then, and 
you obviously do not understand now!" Dr. Zee slowly sank into a chair 
facing Adama. He tried to regain his composure, but knew he was not 
succeeding. He dropped his chin into his hands. "I am aware of what people 
aboard the Galactica and on the other ships in the fleet think of me, 
Adama. Their impressions range from believing that I am totally perfect 
and can do no wrong, to perceptions of me as utterly heartless and cold, 
rigid and/or arrogant, and there are those who do not wish to accept me in 
any capacity. I have heard much of Wellington's feelings of aggression 
towards me, and am at a complete loss as to how to handle this." He fell 
silent as the events which had literally changed his life flashed through 
his mind.
     "Dr. Zee," Adama's hand rested gently on the boy's shoulder. "I have 
never pushed you for answers because I deeply respect you. You say that I 
cannot understand, but you haven't given me the chance to try. Now, 
whatever happened has obviously hurt you a lot more deeply than you want 
to talk about. Please, tell me what happened--all of it."
     Dr. Zee began to tremble. He could see in Adama's eyes a very 
poignant look--love, a desire to help, a wish to know. For years he had 
wanted to reveal to Adama the whole truth, but how would the commander 
take it? He had accepted Dr. Zee's seemingly limitless intelligence, but 
this?
     Dr. Zee slowly lifted his head. He decided that perhaps he should 
take the risk. "Adama," he began hesitantly, "can you accept the 
possibility that there are, perhaps, facets of the mind which can allow 
people to do some very extraordinary things?"
     Adama nodded calmly. "Yes, indeed, I can, Dr. Zee."
     Dr. Zee was stunned. He wasn't at all sure what to expect from his 
commander, but a calm, matter-of-fact answer was not on the list. He 
continued, "Do you believe it is possible to perform incredible feats such 
as movement of objects through thought?"
     "Ah!" A slow glimmer of revelation came into Commander Adama's eyes. 
"Is that what happened, Dr. Zee?"
     Dr. Zee was inwardly shaken. Could it be possible? Adama understood 
what he was saying? "Yes, Adama," Dr. Zee responded with some reluctance.
     "So that's it," breathed Adama softly, sitting beside Dr. Zee and 
pressing his shoulder gently but firmly. "You manifested what is known in 
certain circles as a telekinetic breakthrough. And that's why--" His 
sentence trailed off as things began to fall into place. Dr. Zee saw a 
look of sadness and such deep love in his commander's eyes, and a definite 
understanding which he had not expected.
     "Oh, my God! Dr. Zee! Is that why you closed down so? You were afraid 
that your emotions would trigger another such occurrence! If only you had 
told me! I could have helped you and spared you seven years of--of trying 
to deal with this alone."
     Tears filled Dr. Zee's eyes as he felt Adama's arm around him. "How 
can you know? How--"
     "Because, Dr. Zee, I've been there," replied Adama softly, "and have 
moved objects, felt minds. I used to drive my wife crazy by playing with 
my talents."
     "Adama, I've checked everywhere including the personnel files for any 
references to this and found nothing." Dr. Zee was incredulous, hopeful, 
confused.
     Adama chuckled. "And you wouldn't find anything. There were those of 
us on some of our planets who felt there was more to the mind than met the 
eye, so to speak, and some medical researchers began discovering unusual 
things people could do with the proper training. I spent a couple of 
yahrens at one of these places. We didn't like to make this information 
generally available. The climate of the people at large seemed to indicate 
they were not ready to handle it."
     "Do you still have this telekinetic ability?"
     "Oh, you never really lose it, you just get a little rusty, I 
suppose," replied Adama. "Let's see--. Ah! See that pillow?"
     As Dr. Zee watched, eyes almost bulging, the pillow lifted from the 
bed and spun through the air, twisting it's shape and straightening out 
again, landing finally in Adama's lap.
     "Adama," Dr. Zee's voice choked, "you can just do that at will?"
     Adama hand-tossed the pillow back to it's original place. "Yes, but 
it takes effort and practice, and the learning of certain mental 
disciplines. Emotion can and often will be a trigger, but these abilities 
are controllable, Dr. Zee." Adama exhaled a long breath, gathering Dr. 
Zee's face in his hand. "If I had only known, I could have helped you to 
learn how to control this gift. You may very well have others locked up 
inside you. I won't ask you why you didn't confide in me; I think I know 
the answer. No doubt, you thought I would not have known how to deal with 
something of this extraordinary nature and, perhaps, too, the fear of 
feeling even more different than you already felt. To have lived with this 
secret for so long--"
     "I am sorry, Adama," said Dr. Zee in a voice which was just barely 
audible. "I was afraid of trusting anyone with this information, including 
myself."
     "I know," smiled Adama. "And you have paid dearly for it emotionally. 
But as much as it pains me to say this, you will have to start dealing 
with it now. If what you suspect is true, that Wellington wants revenge or 
resolution of some sort, you are going to have to learn how to control 
your gift." Adama's hand smoothed Dr. Zee's hair back from his pale, 
tear-streaked face. "I think that it's time you told me the whole story 
from the beginning."
     Dr. Zee took a deep breath and proceeded to tell Adama everything.

                                8. Dr. Zee

     Dr. Zee had already achieved much knowledge. In fact, he held a very 
prominent position as head data coordinator in the science and research 
labs, an extraordinary leap for a youth of only seven earth years. He also 
loved music, almost passionately, and he enjoyed his daily cross-ship 
runs. Lots of people worked out like that, seeing how fast they could get 
from one section to another, up and down ladders using either the standard 
methods or just straight hand-over-hand.
     It was through these runs Dr. Zee had met Wellington and had taken an 
interest in him as he was extremely bright, yet seemed to know how to fit 
in.  Wellington was two years younger, but Dr. Zee hoped he could possibly 
gain a friendship.
     Though Dr. Zee had joined a Junior Triad circle, which had been 
enjoyable, he could feel the differences between himself and the other 
Galactican children. Hard as he tried to fit in, there was always that 
feeling of distance between himself and the others. He sensed strong 
resentment from Wellington, particularly, and had heard him muttering to 
another boy in the Triad circle that he didn't like being out-classed by 
Dr. Zee who wasn't even a true Galactican.
     Wellington was jealous, and did everything he could to cause Dr. Zee 
to lose his temper on and off the court. Dr. Zee, however, by his nature, 
possessed a gentle temperament, doing his best to avoid conflicts with 
Wellington and offering him friendly support and encouragement. Aware of 
Wellington's strongest areas, Dr. Zee had offered him the opportunity to 
assist on some projects. The response was usually a laugh and some 
insulting remarks.
     One day, however, Wellington succeeded in his quest to trigger anger 
in the usually easy-going Dr. Zee.
     Wellington had found him researching some material on engineering. 
Being a good hacker, he knew the sequence he would need to destroy Dr. 
Zee's work and, perhaps, finally get him to lose his cool. Leaning over 
his shoulder, Wellington initiated  the 'Cancel and delete' sequence. Dr. 
Zee looked up, nodded, called for 'override and resume', and continued his 
research.
     Wellington spoke very slowly. "You know what I think? I think you are 
a walking computer, with a head like a memory bank and a heart like a 
circuit board."
     While Wellington was speaking, Dr. Zee could see on his monitor that 
the override had not been initiated quickly enough. Three weeks worth of 
calculations had been wiped out by Wellington's cancellation, and he would 
have to enter them again. Dr. Zee turned slowly toward Wellington, and for 
the first time, Wellington saw Dr. Zee turn deep red. "Would you please 
repeat that?" His voice was calm, but his eyes showed the first glimmer of 
fury.
     Wellington repeated his statement, even more distinctly than before. 
Dr. Zee didn't move a muscle, but the next thing Wellington knew, he was 
plastered to the wall midway between floor and ceiling. Wellington began 
to scream; Dr. Zee just sat there, open shock and terror on his face. How 
was it that Wellington was now no longer on the floor? "Oh, Lords of 
Kobol, what have I done?" he gasped in terror.
     A technician ran in to find out what was happening, and in absolute 
panic, Dr.  Zee glanced away from Wellington who tumbled to the floor, 
spraining both ankles rather badly.  He hoped desperately that the 
technician had not seen from whence Wellington had fallen; that would mean 
questions that he was unable to answer.
     Adama, who was Dr. Zee's official guardian, had been informed of the 
problem and came to the lab to see what he could do. Wellington's father, 
too, had come down figuring that Wellington was probably over-exaggerating 
things. Dr. Zee was not noted for conflicts.
     Adama found Dr. Zee looking very upset, unwilling to say much about 
what had happened except that Wellington had received minor injuries but 
he himself was physically unharmed. Wellington, too, seemed not to wish to 
talk about it. All he said was that he was going to get even with Dr. Zee.
     When Adama and Dr. Zee had returned to Adama's quarters, the 
commander tried again to find out more about the incident. "Adama," 
responded Dr. Zee very slowly, "I don't know that I can truly explain what 
happened, but, for now at least, please accept that I never intended to 
harm Wellington. Perhaps, one day, I can tell you the whole story."
     There had been no more discussion of the incident between himself and 
Adama, for Dr. Zee felt Adama just did not have the capacity, perhaps, to 
understand the terror that gripped him. If emotions could trigger a 
telekinetic ability, then suppressing them would keep it locked up. No one 
else aboard the ships in the fleet that he knew of had had any experiences 
with this type of phenomenon. He had scanned every data bank in the fleet 
seeking any references pertaining to unusual mental feats such as this, 
including the personnel banks. Nothing could be found. He felt this was a 
burden he had to bear alone.
     Bear it he did, silently, plunging himself totally into his work and 
rising to the position of respect he now held, and hated. He loved Adama 
and respected him, and in his own way he loved the people of the fleet. 
But this suppression of emotion had cost him dearly. He was very much 
respected, even reverenced by some, but there was no one he could really 
share his deepest heart with, and his deepest fears.  He shared what he 
could with Adama, his guardian, his commander, and the closest thing he 
had to a friend. But these other things--.
     Now, as he finished relating the whole story to Adama, he felt a 
sense of relief. As his eyes met those of his guardian, commander and 
friend, he saw a very intense understanding and empathy. The whole day had 
ben one filled with risks; sharing this with Adama had been, to him, the 
greatest, even greater than the surgery during which he could have lost 
his very life. He felt weary, emotionally and physically. His eyes lifted  
to Adama's face. "I know that my suppression of emotions has caused many 
of the perceptions held by the fleet. But perhaps this injury may make 
them aware that I am not truly indestructible."
     "You mean, make Wellington aware that you're not indestructible," 
Adama clarified gently.
     Slowly, Dr. Zee rose and walked to the window, looking out at the sky 
and the land. "I know that I will have to be extremely cautious in my 
dealings with Wellington, and that I shall be."
     Adama walked over and gently turned Dr. Zee towards him.
     "I wish I could stay here and help you, Dr. Zee, but I must return to 
the Galactica. You cannot deal with this alone. You need guidance, 
especially in learning how to control your superior mental abilities. If 
you should become angry, yes, something might happen." Adama fell into 
deep thought for a moment. "Dr. Zee, there is someone who can help you, 
and probably better than even I can."
     "Is there another, Adama?"
     "Yes," replied Adama, a slow smile forming on his face, "and I 
believe that help is closer than you think."
     "Who is it? Can I risk trusting this person?"
     "Absolutely," Adama chuckled. "Celesta possesses some very extreme 
talents. I surmise that she may have some inkling that something's going 
on. I sense her thoughts to some degree--enough to know that you are in 
them."
     "Celesta?" Dr. Zee's mouth fell open. "Adama, I do respect her a 
great deal. Now, knowing that she has knowledge of these things also--" He 
hesitated. Adama could see reluctance to trust and yet a desperate wish to 
do so.
     "Trust her, Dr. Zee. I have never seen her talents first-hand, but I 
can tell you that, from what I sense, she is quite formidable and gifted. 
She is a gentle, stable woman who would be, I feel, an excellent guide and 
teacher." He gave Dr. Zee a gentle, brief hug. "Now, do you want me to 
talk to Celesta or would you rather confide in her yourself?"
     Dr. Zee couldn't think clearly at this point. If Celesta could help 
him, if there was even a remote chance, he felt it was time to take it. He 
had come to the realization that he was in over his head and could no 
longer go it alone. But that fear was still there. He leaned his head 
against Adama's shoulder and spoke softly. "I think it might be best if I 
speak with her."
     Adama nodded and smiled gentle approval. "Yes, I agree. But now, you 
need to sleep. You're drained out; I can see that, and you will need all 
your strength tomorrow."
     Dr. Zee and Adama settled down onto the bed. Sleep would not come 
easily, thought Dr. Zee, but Adama was right; he had to try. Questions 
kept forming in his mind and finally he asked softly, "Adama, you said you 
could touch minds; telepathy?"
     "Yes, to some degree," replied Adama, rolling over to face Dr. Zee.
     "Is that how you know that Celesta is--well--gifted?"
     "Hmm, somewhat. I do know that I can feel a certain energy from 
others who are trained in these areas and definitely feel it from her. 
But, I also know she is Arian, and I know there was a research station on 
Aries."
     "Could you contact her mind if you wanted to do so?"
     "Yes, I probably could and may have already, inadvertently. She may 
be sensing me just as I sense her."
     Dr. Zee closed his eyes thoughtfully. "I--I know it won't be easy to 
share all of this with her, but I shall do my best, Adama."
     "Of course you will. And it may end up being easier than you expect. 
Now, try to get some sleep!"

                                9. Celesta

     Meanwhile, Clare and Celesta were getting themselves comfortable. 
Clare noticed that Celesta seemed unusually thoughtful and quiet; there 
was an expression on her face which Clare could only interpret as worry. 
"What's wrong?" Clare asked.
     "What makes you think something's wrong, my dear Clare?"
     Clare gathered Celesta's face in her hand and replied, "That look. 
You are always so calm, so serene, so when I see worry in your face I know 
something's wrong."
     Celesta smiled slightly at Clare. "You think you know me that well, 
do you?" She gave Clare's arm a squeeze and turned to walk over to the 
window. Sitting on the low chest beside it, she sighed. "You didn't by 
chance happen to notice Dr.  Zee's expression when Hector Alanzo mentioned 
that boy, Wellington, did you?"
     "To be honest, no, I didn't." Clare almost smiled. "What did I miss?"
     Celesta pulled her feet up onto the chest with her knees drawn to her 
chest.  Placing her arm around her drawn-up knees, she rested her chin on 
her hand.  Clare watched her intently, sensing that Celesta knew something 
and wanted to share it, but was having great difficulty deciding just how 
much she was going to share.
     "Clare, sometimes things are not always as we perceive them to be, 
and the same goes for people."
     Clare nodded. "Yes, I know that, Celesta. Can you be a bit more clear 
here?"
     Celesta frowned. She was obviously struggling within herself. Finally 
she spoke, her tone measured and as deeply intense as the gaze she fixed 
on Clare.  "What I say to you now may never go beyond you. Is that 
understood?" Clare nodded slowly. Celesta continued quietly, but with that 
same intensity. "And what I tell you may change your impressions of Dr. 
Zee. Maybe you'll understand why he is the way he is, maybe you won't. I'm 
telling you these things now so you will understand why I'm going to be 
the one to stay here while you and Trent return with the commander to the 
Galactica."
     Clare's eyes widened. She nodded again and drew her finger across her 
lips in a vow of silence.
     Celesta gave her an acknowledging look, then closed her eyes in deep 
thought.  Her words, when she spoke, seemed chosen with great care.  "You 
know as well as I do that there isn't one person in the fleet who isn't 
even slightly curious about Dr. Zee's personal life. Oh, yes, he has one, 
but it's very private and, I'm afraid, he's had to carry an awful lot of 
pain for such a young boy."
     "How do you know all this?" Clare's incredulous question was hardly 
above a whisper.
     "Let's just say that something happened some seven years ago; I heard 
a lot of whispers and rumors in the labs; I did a bit of investigating and 
found no one wanting to really discuss what happened. Finally, I found one 
medical trainee who opened up to me and told me what she knew, and I was 
able to piece the rest of the puzzle together." Celesta could see Clare's 
intent and wrapped expression, her eyes begging Celesta to continue.
     Celesta straightened herself, dropped her feet to the floor, folded 
her hands in her lap and, after clearing her throat, related what she knew 
of the incident between Dr. Zee and Wellington.
     "Oh, by the Lords of Kobol!" was Clare's whispered exclamation. "So, 
are you saying that he deliberately suppressed emotion just so he wouldn't 
have to deal with this telekinetic ability?"
     "I think it's more than that," replied Celesta, twisting a lock of 
hair through her fingers, the worry lines deepening on her face. There was 
incredible compassion there, too, Clare observed. "Perhaps he is afraid he 
may have other abilities and isn't ready to deal with them for fear of 
endangering another." she let out a long sigh. "I'm afraid that the time 
will come when he'll have to deal with all of it, including the pain." 
Celesta's eyes closed for a moment, pain evident on her own face. "And 
that time may be here and now. Don't forget, I was one of Wellington's 
tutors. I know that boy. He can hold a grudge like you wouldn't believe. 
He's bright--extremely bright, but extremely lacking in empathy toward 
others. He can be terribly jealous and obsessive. I'm sure he doesn't love 
the idea that someone approximately his age possesses more intelligence 
than he does."
     A cold chill ran through Clare. "You don't think that Wellington 
would try to hurt him, do you, Celesta?"
     "It's not beyond the realm of possibility," was Celesta's 
tight-lipped response.
     Clare shook her head vigorously as if trying to clear it. After a 
brief pause, she asked, "What good would it do for you to stay rather than 
myself or Trent?"
     "Because I am the only one among us medics who truly knows what a 
telekinetic can do, and if he has other abilities, too, I may be better 
able to understand them than you or Trent."
     Clare was definitely at a loss. "Why is that, Celesta? What are you 
holding back on?"
     Rising from the chest, Celesta paced for a moment, then stood before 
Clare, her hand gently but firmly on Clare's shoulder. "Like I said, 
people are not always as they seem. I worked in a very special facility 
back on Aries. It's purpose was to conduct research on the potential of 
the mind. We made some very interesting discoveries, but felt that the 
public wasn't ready for them. And we wanted to gain more test subjects, 
more data, more incontrovertible evidence that people had the potential to 
do some incredible things with their minds. If they wanted, and if they 
had training, they could move objects, read minds, sense physiological and 
emotional reactions--many things."
     Celesta looked around the room and focused her eyes on a chair. 
Clare's eyes followed hers, and then Clare gasped and managed to suppress 
a shriek as she saw the chair lift from the floor, move in a small circle 
above the floor, and then settle back to the same place from which it had 
been lifted.
     Celesta's arm tightened about Clare's shoulder, her other hand across 
Clare's mouth, her eyes suddenly hard and unyielding. "Now do you 
understand? I can do this because I know what it is and how to control it. 
Dr. Zee is suffering because of it--because he does not understand it, has 
had no help in understanding it, and probably is afraid of hurting someone 
by it."
     Clare had managed to recover herself. Celesta's hand moved away from 
Clare's mouth. She leaned in close to Celesta's ear and whispered, "You 
could have helped him; why didn't you? Why did you let him--"
     "Because he wasn't ready," was Celesta's sad, gentle response. 
"Knowing his private nature, it would have been an uncomfortable thing for 
me to bring up to him. But now," she lifted her head slowly, "I think 
things may start to open up and he's going to need someone who can help 
him understand what he has the potential of being more fully. I sense 
emotional turmoil from him right now." At Clare's questioning look, 
Celesta gave a small smile and shrug. "I do have some abilities as an 
empath and telepath, too. In fact, I rated strongest as a telepath."
     "Whe-ew," breathed Clare. "This is going to take me some time to--"
     "Don't try so hard, Clare. Just trust me on this one."
     "How do you think you can help him?"
     Celesta thought for a moment, then said, "He's feeling rather 
vulnerable, now, and may have trouble getting a good night's sleep. I 
think I'll just try to project to him a feeling of safety--something 
calming. That way he can rest, and in the morning--well--we'll see. If I 
can gain his trust, which will not be easy, I'm sure, I can teach him what 
he needs to know and guide him in using these abilities of his."
     "You can do that? Project a--?" Clare felt suddenly stupid. Of course 
she could! After all, she had picked up a chair with nothing more than a 
thought.
     Celesta smiled into Clare's incredulous eyes and just nodded.
     Clare went over to the bed and slipped between the sheets. Celesta 
joined her a few minutes later. "Is Dr. Zee all right?" asked Clare.
     Celesta curled herself up under the sheet. "Yes, I think so." her 
reply sounded tired. "I did get the strong impression of astonishment, as 
if he was trying to fathom where that sudden feeling of well-being was 
coming from."
     "Are you going to tell him?"
     "When the time is right, of course." Celesta's head suddenly jerked 
up from the pillow. "Well, well, Well," she breathed softly. "He may 
already know something."
     "What do you mean?" Clare could sense that Celesta had been jolted by 
something. "Did you sense something from him?"
     "Yes, but I also sense very strong things from our dear Commander 
Adama. Apparently, he has talents, too." Celesta couldn't help but chuckle 
as she continued, "I have often suspected that the commander had some 
potential, but, from what I sense now, he has more than that; he is highly 
trained--a bit rusty, but rather advanced."
     Clare propped herself up on her elbow. "But if he has 
these--uh--capabilities, then why--I mean, he is Dr. Zee's--"
     "I have the feeling that Adama didn't know the whole story either 
until tonight," was Celesta's careful response. "Clare, Dr. Zee would not 
have told anyone. My guess is he probably searched every file he could to 
find information pertaining to extraordinary mental abilities. Assuming he 
did, he came up empty-handed; the information was classified."
     They fell silent for a while. Then Clare murmured thoughtfully, "I 
wonder why nobody ever continued that research. What happened to it, 
Celesta?"
     Celesta's hand brushed strands of black hair away from Clare's face. 
"The research was destroyed, my friend, when the Cylons raided the 
planets. So many people destroyed." A sad sigh. "Because the information 
was classified, I had no idea who from the other planets might be 
similarly involved. I couldn't find any survivors from the Arian facility 
and I lost the heart to continue the research alone. I kept my own private 
journals, however, not that there's anything monumental in them, but they 
do chart my progress and training. And in the morning, I think I'll 
contact the Galactica's main computron and bring down those journals." She 
stretched and rolled over. "Maybe
     they'll help our Dr. Zee."
     Clare reached out and gently hugged Celesta, resting her face against 
Celesta's shoulder. "I treasure you, Celesta," she whispered. "I wish I 
could project one of those safety feelings to you."
     Celesta laughed that gentle laugh of hers. "Maybe you have with that 
hug."
     They drifted off to sleep.

                                10. Trent

     Trent had found it very easy to snuggle down into a couple of old 
blankets in the barn. He inhaled deeply of the smells around him--fresh 
hay, cut wood and others.  The blanket, two, had its own smell--sort of 
musty and well-used--a comfortable smell, he thought. He was tired--bone 
tired.
     He felt he probably knew as much as anyone did about Dr. Zee, a boy 
shrouded in mystery and myth. Dr. Zee was brilliant, incredibly so. From 
what little interaction there had been between them, he usually considered 
Dr. Zee unreadable, showing little or no reaction to any thing or any one. 
He was always courteous, though cool, but Trent felt there had to be a 
heart in there, somewhere.
     Trent had heard lots of people say that Dr. Zee just didn't have the 
capacity for emotion, but he found that hard to believe. True, Dr. Zee 
rarely, if ever, appeared at social events and, when he did, the 
appearances were brief, usually with or to speak to Commander Adama, 
members of the council, or someone like that. As a general rule, he would 
be found in a lab or his special conference chamber.  Sometimes, Trent had 
seen him coming out of the Commander's quarters and, a couple of times, in 
a viper flight simulator. Trent had always made it a point to say 'hello'; 
he would generally receive a nod of acknowledgment. Occasionally that nod 
would be accompanied by a verbal acknowledgment of 'Trent'.
     There had been one time, however, a year before, when Trent had just 
received his promotion to Junior Grade Medic. He had really worked hard, 
putting in long hours at his studies. That night, after receiving the 
promotion, he and some of his friends had gone to the Rising Star to 
celebrate. Trent drank a few too many ambrosas and was feeling it when he 
stepped off the shuttle on the Galactica's landing bay. His friends all 
seemed to scatter and disappear, leaving Trent to work his way back to his 
quarters alone. He boarded the lift for his level; it stopped to pick up 
another passenger--Dr. Zee. Trent's heart dropped into his stomach. "Of 
all people to see me like this," he thought with a horrible sense of 
embarrassment, "and it has to be Dr. Zee!" He could feel those unreadable 
eyes making a slow survey of him.
     The lift finally reached Trent's level. Trent did his best to smile 
as he exited rather ungracefully from the lift. He was not aware that Dr. 
Zee had followed him out and continued watching him as he moved slowly 
using the hand rails to aid his progress down the hallway towards his 
quarters.
     A couple of men popped out from an adjacent corridor and began giving 
Trent a hard time, teasing him about having a few too many ambrosas. 
Trent's face began to turn red and he was about to snap something in 
return when he was quite startled by Dr. Zee's calm, precise speech. 
"Medic Trent."
     Trent blinked; it was the first time someone had referred to him as 
'Medic'. He turned slowly to Dr. Zee, noticing the two annoyances backing 
off. "Dr. Zee?" Trent saluted as best he could. "Frack!" he thought. "What 
does he want from me? I'm probably going to end up on report or something. 
If I could just read his face!"
     Dr. Zee moved to Trent's door, glanced at the two annoyances and 
said, returning his unwavering eyes to Trent, "I came to take some scans 
in order to establish the effects of this drug you were so willing to help 
me research." He moved closer to the door, continuing easily, "It would 
appear that its effects have taken hold. Perhaps I should accomplish these 
scans in your quarters."
     For a brief moment, Trent hesitated, then pulled out his com-lock and 
opened his door. "Yes," Trent blinked and tried to recover himself. Was 
Dr. Zee attempting to save him from having to deal with those two? "Um--I 
think it's reached its peak level. I can give you a full report."
     The two men who had been making Trent's life so miserable stared at 
each other, then at Trent and Dr. Zee, quickly mumbled and stammered their 
apologies and disappeared.
     Dr. Zee motioned Trent to wait and slipped passed him, making a swift 
visual sweep of the area. Trent realized that Dr. Zee was making sure 
those two were really out of sight.
     Then he turned back to Trent. "I surmised you could use some help," 
he said simply. As Trent looked at him, his surprise was increased by what 
appeared to be a slight smile and a sense of understanding from the 
usually unreadable Dr. Zee.
     "Yeah; thanks," Trent had breathed, wiping beads of perspiration from 
his forehead. "I owe you one--or two." Then he asked cautiously, "Are you 
putting  me on report?"
     Dr. Zee shook his head, lifted his hand in a vague salute, turned 
back in the direction of the lift. Then looked over his shoulder at Trent 
with that ever-so-slight smile. "I know you have worked exceedingly long 
spans to get this promotion. Just remember to take some turmalidium before 
appearing in Life Center tomorrow."
     "Yes, Dr. Zee." What was that Trent had just seen? A wink? Dr. Zee 
understood him, he realized with astonishment, and, smiling, he gave a 
definite salute. "Yes, Sir!" And more softly, "and thanks." Suddenly, a 
thought occurred to him.  "Dr. Zee? If--um--anybody asks me, what were we 
researching?"
     Dr. Zee seemed thoughtful for a moment as he regarded Trent's 
hesitant, questioning expression. Then he responded in that unreadable 
tone of his, "The material is classified and secured, I believe, totally 
unavailable for general discussion. Carry on, Medic Trent."
     Trent's smile broadened as he watched Dr. Zee quickly disappear back 
into the lift.
     No, Dr. Zee was not heartless, he thought, and he, Trent, had been a 
part of saving this incredible person's life. He sighed, burrowed deeper 
into the blankets, and his thoughts melted into a deep sleep.

                              11. Breakfast

     Morning dawned, and everyone came to some semblance of life by about 
6:30.  The kitchen was filled with people. The twelve Galactican children 
seemed to be the most energetic of the group. Adama could see Jamie with 
her eyes half closed sipping a cup of that strange coffee. He turned to 
Dr. Zee who was also watching her. "It's called coffee," he told Dr. Zee, 
pointing to the cup. "I ended up drinking a great deal of it yesterday. It 
iss--interesting."
     The two had started to move towards Jamie; Troy physically blocked 
them. "Not a good idea to talk to her just now." He spoke softly with a 
knowing smile. "She's gotta have that first cup before she'll talk; 
otherwise," and Troy stifled a chuckle, "she just growls."
     "Hmm," smiled Adama. "I suppose she's gotta have that first 
cigarette, too."
     Troy sighed. "Well, I think she's already had her first two." Then he 
smiled and added, "You're both probably hungry. Maria's got eggs in that 
pot over there, fresh orange slices on that plate--" And Troy pointed out 
where things were, smiling as he noted Dr. Zee trying to pull up 
references as fast as he spoke to such things as 'butter milk biscuit', 
'sausage' and other items.
     The three medics had gotten together and seemed to be more interested 
in trying the various offerings rather than analyzing them. It soon became 
clear that Celesta's love of spices had drawn her to gather a large 
portion of the potatoes, Clare seemed to gravitate more to the slices of 
orange and toast, while Trent chomped on sausage and eggs wearing a huge 
grin.
     Commander Adama moved to join Celesta. He felt he needed to confirm 
his suspicion that she was indeed a fellow researcher and talent. He knew 
Dr. Zee would keep his word and speak to her, but he wanted to ensure that 
such a course of action would truly be beneficial. He hoped fervently that 
he had not misled Dr. Zee.
     Celesta smiled at the commander. "You must try these," she said 
pointing to the potatoes. "I think you'll find them very interesting, 
Commander."
     "They do look wonderful," he acknowledged. Reaching the serving spoon 
into the large bowl, he lifted out some potatoes and, as he moved them to 
his plate, one of them fell from the spoon. But it hover for a brief 
instant before it touched down on the plate.
     Slowly, tentatively, he extended and opened his mind. Celesta nodded 
slowly, doing the same with her mind. The two minds touched and Adama knew 
that he was definitely in the presence of an extremely gifted person.
     She seemed to anticipate his queries and responded with a reassurance 
that his trust was not misplaced. "Commander, I already had some knowledge 
of the trouble that our Dr. Zee is experiencing," was her gentle 
communication. "I already planned to remain behind so I could try to help 
him."
     "Thank you, Celesta," breathed Adama, unable to disguise his relief.
     "It will not be easy for him, Adama; he is going to have to discover 
himself, face his pain. Only then can he handle his gift."
     "Yes, I know that. Oh, how I wish I could remain here, but I can't. 
Please, I beg of you, be gentle with him."
     Celesta nodded. "I promise, Adama. He needs a safe haven, so to 
speak--a feeling of understanding. We'll make it just fine."
     Clare caught up with Dr. Zee on her second trip to the counter for 
orange slices, and smiled at him as she reached two pieces of bread over 
his head to the toaster shelf, dropped them into the toaster and pressed 
the plunger. "How are you feeling?" she asked. "Did you sleep well?"
     "Indeed so, Clare, and I am quite well." He regarded her for a long 
moment. "I am aware that one medic is to remain here should I experience 
any difficulties."
     "Yes," Clare nodded, chewing on a piece of orange. "Celesta will 
remain here.  I've got to return since I'm chief pro tem of Life Center 
until Salvahr finishes up on the prison barge." Dr. Zee could see a slight 
wince. "What a mess over there," she added softly.
     Dr. Zee nodded. "Yes, agreed," he responded just as softly, his 
expression the closest to compassion that Clare had ever seen. "If those 
bulkheads had not sealed so quickly, many more could have been injured and 
many more lives lost."
     "Yeah." Clare took a long breath; she didn't want to think about the 
fire-ravaged ship just now. "Trent should go back to the Galactica, too; 
he has some classes to complete before he can be made Intermediate Medic. 
And Celesta--" Clare could see Celesta and Maria through the corner of her 
eye. They were standing by the pantry, heads together over a book, 
talking, laughing and, obviously, enjoying themselves thoroughly. Clare 
had to chuckle. "Celesta wants to know everything about Earth that she can 
possibly learn hands on."
     Dr. Zee had also noted the two women. Celesta's eyes were sparkling 
as she suddenly dissolved into laughter. "It would be a good opportunity 
for her, then, to remain," he agreed with Clare.
     Suddenly his attention was turned to the shelf above his head. 
Something was burning. "Clare!" She turned to see him quickly reach to 
push the plunger back up. "Is it supposed to do that?" he asked 
uncertainly.
     "Oops!" exclaimed Clare. I was warned. This toaster thing 
is--um--flaky, I think is the term." She retrieved the slightly burned 
toast and spread butter on it.
     "Flaky?" Dr. Zee tapped into his computron. "Colloquial reference as 
unpredictable; intermittent; not totally reliable or dependable possibly 
due to a malfunction."
     Clare exhaled. "Well, maybe when you get back to the Galactica, you 
can teach the rest of us some of the lingo."
     "Actually," Dr. Zee seemed to be playing with an idea, "It might be 
helpful to have Troy and Dillon conduct a class on Earth's local speech." 
Clare could see Dr. Zee watching her intently, lifting his eyebrows as she 
took a bite of the over-done toast. "Is that still edible?" was his 
somewhat hesitant question.
     Clare took another bite. "As long as it's got butter on it," she 
replied around her mouthful, "it's not bad. I do think I like it better 
not so--um--brown."
     Dr. Zee regarded her thoughtfully, then took a couple of orange 
slices for himself.

                                12. Chris

     Young Chris Alanzo had a lot of questions of his own when he saw the 
additional faces. He knew of Dr. Zee; he had seen him twice before, but 
they had not spoken. Dr. Zee had been preoccupied with Chris' father and 
that man Dillon and Troy called 'Commander'. He seemed nice enough, 
though. Maybe he was just working too hard and had no time to be sociable. 
There were times when Chris had seen his father in a mood like that after 
a day when things went wrong and he had a deadline or something like that.
     What was going on? he wondered to himself. Who was going to stay this 
time? They hadn't come in that big pretty ship this time. No, they had 
come in an RV. His mom had told him that Dr. Zee would be staying for a 
few days to get some rest. "Good," Chris had thought. "Maybe I'll get a 
chance to find out what he's really like."
     Chris could see an expression of disbelief mixed with sudden hatred 
cross Wellington's face when he had caught sight of Dr. Zee. That made 
Chris nervous. Was Wellington gonna pick a fight? If so, it sure wouldn't 
be a fair one.  Wellington was obviously heavier and much stronger-looking 
than the slightly-built, pale Dr. Zee.
     And why did they call him 'Doctor' anyway? wondered Chris. He was 
just a kid, too, but it seemed he knew an awful lot about an awful lot of 
stuff. Chris had found out from listening to Troy and Dillon that Dr. Zee 
had invented and built that neat ship that could do some incredible 
things--like make it rain. He also gathered that Dr. Zee was very 
important and helped make a lot of very heavy-duty, grown-up-type 
decisions.
     But all those kids were really smart, thought Chris. It was tough 
keeping their secret--that they were from another galaxy--like outer 
space. But yeah, they were smart, and strong!--really strong!.  All of 
those people were really strong. Those agro people who had been there for 
the last six months--they would work the land with no tractor, just with 
those laser tools and incredible physical strength. They had gone back to 
the Galactica last week, but more were supposed to be coming next month.
     Chris sneaked another look at Dr. Zee. He was probably very strong, 
too, but Wellington was probably in better shape, that was for sure. 
Besides, Chris had heard something about Dr. Zee being really badly hurt.
     "He sure don't look hurt to me," Chris said to himself. "I sure hope 
Wellington's not wantin' to pick a fight with him, though. It wouldn't be 
fair! Dr. Zee would probably get creamed! Why doesn't Wellington like him, 
anyway? Dr. Zee doesn't look like he wants to hurt anyone--not the 
fighting type."
     Chris knew he couldn't just go up and ask Wellington; he'd have to 
feel it out.  There were just some things one could not do without 
thinking about it because Wellington had moods.
     Chris figured he'd better keep his eyes open. "Nah, he doesn't look 
really badly hurt now," and a little shudder slid through Chris. "But he 
sure will if Wellington starts punching him out." Lowering his eyes he 
said a little prayer. "Please, God, don't let there be a fight; it could 
get awful. Thanks, God."

                              13. Wellington

     Wellington was indeed not happy at seeing Dr. Zee so close. He was 
made even more unhappy when he found out that Dr. Zee was going to be 
staying there for a few days. Celesta's presence didn't bother him as 
much. Yes, she had been a tough tutor, but she had taught him some 
wonderful things. But Dr. Zee--that was another story.
     A sudden thought came to Wellington, and as it bloomed in his mind, a 
smirk came into his eyes. He had promised that he would get even with Dr. 
Zee for what he had done seven years ago. Of course, such revenge had been 
impossible with Dr. Zee on the Galactica so well-protected and himself on 
the repair barge. But,  now, he would have his golden opportunity.
     Wellington's stomach recoiled as he remembered too vividly how it had 
felt to suddenly find himself pressed against that wall with no floor 
under his feet. He had felt out of control, scared, and he didn't like 
those feelings. He still wasn't exactly sure how Dr. Zee had done it, but 
he was going to find out one way or another. If that meant strangling Dr. 
Zee, sobeit, he thought. Wellington also couldn't forget how his father 
had admonished him for making up such a story. Most nauseating of all, 
however, was that his father had wanted him to apologize to Dr. Zee for 
telling such an impossible story. But no apology was made.
     Wellington, too, had been given to understand that Dr. Zee had been 
quite seriously injured and was so different that he needed Earth blood or 
something. Of course, the surgical procedures were no doubt Galactican 
which probably meant that Dr. Zee was in fair shape. But he still would 
have to have been weakened by this. He had no real knowledge of Dr. Zee's 
present physical prowess, but remembered that Dr. Zee had taken part in, 
and won, a couple of Junior Triad matches. He had been tough competition 
on the court, not so much due to strength but to his speed and agility.  
Wellington recalled Dr. Zee's abrupt disappearance from the Triad circle 
immediately following the--um-- incident.
     Wellington wondered how much of that incredible coordination and 
speed which Dr. Zee had shown as a Triad champion was still there. But he 
was sure that, particularly with all the work he and the other children 
had been doing on this farm, his physical condition far exceeded that of 
the pale-faced shrimp, Dr. Zee--especially now.
     "I need a plan," thought Wellington, "something absolutely devious 
and brilliant." He had to smile as he realized that in some ways he had 
the upper hand here. He knew more about living on Earth than Dr. Zee did. 
Perhaps there was something in that knowledge he could use. This was going 
to take some thought-- careful, calculated thought--and it would be so 
much fun.

                                14. Starla

     Starla clustered with the rest of the Galactican children, most of 
whom were whispering to each other, laughing, and sneaking glances at Dr. 
Zee. They were all nervous; there was just something about Dr. Zee that 
made people a little nervous. Maybe it was those intense eyes or the fact 
one couldn't figure out what he was thinking or feeling by looking at his 
face. No one seemed to be able to get close to him. "Maybe he'll like it 
here," she thought to herself. She wondered if he ever laughed, and hoped 
she might see it.
     Starla was an open, loving child and, as nervous as she might feel, 
she also felt really sorry for Dr. Zee. She knew he couldn't be much older 
than Wellington, but he was responsible for the whole fleet-almost as much 
as Commander Adama. He was so smart, she mused, but he was probably very 
lonely, too. Perhaps all this responsibility didn't give him time to relax 
and that was why he seemed so--she couldn't think of the right word. Maybe 
'intimidating' was a good description.
     She had thought about him a lot, particularly after he and other 
medics had saved her life and the lives of Jason and Moonstone six months 
before. She remembered when she had opened her eyes and found herself 
looking into those intense eyes of Dr. Zee, which somehow seemed a bit 
softer, then, with an expression that was sort of a cross between relief 
and a smile. She had wanted to say something to him, but was so weak that 
all she could do was smile and blink her eyes.
     Later, she had actually started to try to write notes for Troy or 
Dillon to take back to the Galactica for Dr. Zee--notes to thank him and 
let him know that she appreciated what he had done, that she liked him and 
didn't want him to feel lonely. But as soon as they were written, they 
were ripped up because she did feel nervous about them and afraid that he 
might not understand.
     Starla looked around at the rest of the children. She noticed 
Wellington's face as he took a quick look at Dr. Zee and felt herself 
shrink back. She had never seen Wellington look so mean. She knew that he 
could indeed be a bully, but his face told her that he had a lot more in 
mind when it came to Dr. Zee. "Wellington hates him!" The thought jarred 
her. She wondered if Dr. Zee had any idea of this and, if he did, did he 
care? She felt she'd better stay clear of Wellington, but wished she could 
warn Dr. Zee to at least watch out. But she felt too shy to approach him.
     She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. This was an awful 
feeling--wanting to do something but not knowing what would be the best 
thing to do. The best thing would not be to talk to Wellington about Dr. 
Zee, that was for sure. There was only one thing she could do; she'd have 
to try to talk to Captain Troy.
     Starla was glad that Celesta was staying behind. Celesta reminded her 
of her grandmother who she missed very much. All the children had gotten 
hugs from Celesta that morning and exclamations of, "My, how you've 
grown!" "You're becoming such a handsome young man!" And to Starla she had 
said, holding Starla's face between those gentle hands, "You're going to 
turn into quite a beautiful young lady, Starla; keep that special smile of 
yours."
     "Maybe I should talk to Celesta," thought Starla. "She's always so 
nice; she'll know what to do."

                       15. Trusting With His Heart

     The day wore on. Troy had left with the RV containing Adama, Clare, 
Trent and Jamie (who had to be driven to the clinic so she could retrieve 
her car in order to get to her job at UBC). Troy would be flying the 
commander and medics back to the Galactica and, upon his return, Jamie 
would pick him up and they would both come back to the farm.
     The children had all gone to their chores; Dillon was keeping his eye 
on them; Hector had gone into town with Gloria to pick up supplies and 
groceries; Maria had tossed everyone out of the kitchen so she could 
concentrate her efforts on the next meal and laundry.
     It was about 9:00 a.m. as Dr. Zee stood looking down into the 
reservoir taking readings of water and soil. He was interrupted by 
Celesta's soft-spoken but firm voice. "Don't you ever rest, Dr. Zee?"
     He turned toward her, somewhat puzzled. "What would you suggest, 
Celesta?"
     She smiled. "I would suggest you put that computron to bed, take a 
deep breath and feel your surroundings. Try to become a part of life here. 
If you must analyze, do it from within, not from without."
     Dr. Zee took a long, deep breath. This would not be easy for him, he 
knew. Personal interaction was not one of his strongest areas. "And how 
would you recommend I begin?" he asked.
     Celesta turned towards a huge tree which rose up about a hundred feet 
away. "I understand that there is a game on Earth called 'Follow The 
Leader'," she replied with a mischievous nod at the tree. "So," and 
tossing back her head sprinted towards it. Dr. Zee stood there for a 
moment, not quite sure what Celesta wished to convey. She glanced briefly 
over her shoulder and called back to him, "You mean to tell me that I can 
outrun you, old as I am?"
     Dr. Zee hesitated only an instant, then suddenly found himself 
muttering, "I don't think so." And broke into a run, reaching the tree 
just as Celesta did. She waved at him and vaulted into its branches, 
laughing. Dr. Zee jumped up beside her. She gave him a gentle but firm 
thump on the shoulder. "Good!" she cheered. "Keep that up and you'll be in 
great shape! And with Earth's thinner atmosphere, you will be even faster 
than you were on the court!"
     Dr. Zee realized he had to smile. It had felt good--the smell of the 
air, the feel of it rushing across his hair and face, the exhilaration. 
"Perhaps you're right, Celesta." I should concentrate on more physical 
activities."
     He wondered, though, how she knew about him on the court. Had she 
been one of the spectators? He couldn't remember her face from the Triad 
audiences.
     "Winded?" she asked.
     "No, I feel fine."
     Dr. Zee saw a touch of a smile on Celesta's face. It slipped away, 
replaced by a thoughtful seriousness, a struggle, as if there was 
something she wished to say but wasn't exactly certain as to how to 
present it. He waited, watching a mixture of expressions move across her 
face.
     "How do you really feel, Dr. Zee?" was her quiet question.
     He was perplexed. Celesta was seeking, he surmised, but what? 
"Physically, I am quite well," he responded. His search of her face 
indicated that his physical health was not the issue. He decided he needed 
to try a different tack. "I am sure I will have much to learn about this 
culture, its perceptions, language and terminology. It should prove 
interesting."
     "Mm-Hmm?" Dr. Zee could feel Celesta's eyes on him, still seeking. 
This answer had not been the one she was looking for, either. Celesta's 
voice was calm and a bit probing as she continued, "And, of course, you'll 
be having to deal with the curiosity of a dozen Galactican children, too." 
She observed a slight start from Dr. Zee. "I know they are very curious 
about you, wondering what you're really like. Oh, yes, they're probably 
wondering whether you take time to relax, why you left the Triad 
court--lots of things."
     "I had no idea that my brief time in the Triad circle has had such an 
impact even after so many years. How do you know about my actions on the 
court?"
     Celesta gave a small shrug. "Oh, I know a lot of things. I do so hope 
you haven't put down your music, too."
     Dr. Zee felt himself becoming somewhat agitated by this probing. How 
did Celesta know so much about him, his time at Triad, his love of music? 
He had never really done anything publicly as an instrumentalist. What, in 
the name of Kobol, did Celesta want from him? He strove for control. 
"Celesta, what would you have me say? Is it that you are seeking something 
or wishing to communicate something to me?"
     Dr. Zee noted the struggle playing across her face again. "I think it 
is you who wish to communicate something to me, Dr. Zee. But we're both 
feeling barred which is making things difficult."
     Dr. Zee exhaled slowly. "Adama told me I could trust you with a 
certain piece of information regarding--" His lips trembled slightly at 
the thought of revealing a part of himself which had been such a guarded 
secret for so long. "Regarding myself," he concluded softly.
     "I see," Celesta nodded.
     Dr. Zee tried to consider the best way to broach the subject. 
Celesta's eyes had softened; he could feel her listening, waiting to hear 
whatever it was he wanted to share. But he didn't know how or where to 
begin.
     Finally, Celesta spoke in a slow, measured tone, and what she said 
astonished him so that he almost fell off the branch he was sitting on. 
"Dr. Zee, I think it's time to talk. You can't really resolve things by 
suppressing them. You're going to have to get back in touch with 
yourself--your real self--before you will ever be able to put your 
problems with Wellington to rest."
     He felt her hand hold his arm firmly, steadying him. His face had 
gone white. He could only stare at Celesta in confusion, anguish, shock. 
"How do you know so much about me?" he managed to stammer. "How can you 
possibly know about--about--"
     "About the fact that you and Wellington were--shall we say--faced 
with a most unusual experience and have never resolved it?"
     Dr. Zee's mind was reeling. "About Wellington--and my emotional 
suppression and--and--what else do you know?"
     He could see now a sadness in her face mixed with a deep knowing. "I 
heard some whispers and opened my ears wide. I also have some special 
talents--the kind you finally discovered Adama has."
     Dr. Zee felt his head start to spin. How could Celesta really know? 
He had never discussed any part of the incident with anyone save for 
Adama, and then it had been closeted.
     "Easy, my friend," was Celesta's incredibly compassionate, gentle 
response. She placed her arm around him and drew him close. "Let's just 
say that I had heard some interesting rumors and did some investigating. I 
was able to piece the puzzle together for the most part. Sensing you now 
has confirmed a lot of what I had guessed."
     Dr. Zee was stunned. He could sense  Celesta's total acceptance of 
him. But there was more, too; there was a deep, heart-felt desire to offer 
help.
     "I have been watching you for seven years. I know what it is you're 
trying to run away from; I know what that running has cost you. But there 
comes a time when the running has got to stop, and your time is now."
     Dr. Zee felt himself start to tremble. Celesta's gaze was clear, 
direct, and held in it a very deep understanding--deeper than he'd ever 
seen in Adama's eyes--until last night. With all his heart, he wished he 
could trust that understanding. How much did she know? Could he hope or 
dare to hope that she might understand? The desperation he had carried 
inside for so long began to surface.
     His lips trembled when he spoke. "I don't know how much you know, but 
I do know that the experience I had is not common and--" he faltered, 
"there is no information available pertaining to--"
     "Telekinesis?" The word, spoken so gently, so compassionately, and 
with such a knowing feeling shook Dr. Zee to his core. He felt Celesta's 
arm draw him closer, her other hand softly smoothed his hair.
     Then she slowly looked up into the tree. There were a few very 
nice-looking apples hanging several feet above their heads. She sighed. "I 
think I have no choice but to prove to you beyond a shadow of a doubt that 
I do indeed understand you, Dr. Zee, and what it is that has caused you so 
much pain." She pointed to one of the apples. "Watch and learn."
     Dr. Zee slowly drew his eyes to the apple she pointed to and watched 
with gaping jaw as it picked itself from its branch, spiraling slowly into 
Celesta's outstretched hand. He fell utterly speechless, unable to stop 
trembling; his heart was racing; his expression a combination of terror, 
desperation, hope, relief. "You ca--can--" He tried to stammer.
     Celesta regarded him for a moment, then, placing the apple in a 
pocket, laid her hand on his forehead. "It's all right, now, Dr. Zee. Be 
at peace." and Dr. Zee felt a warmth and calm flow through him, slowing 
down his pounding heart and easing the tremors in his body. It was even 
stronger than the feeling of well-being which had suddenly, for no 
apparent reason, filled him the night before.

                       16. From Running to Release

     Celesta continued speaking in a calm tone. "Before the Cylons 
destroyed the home planets, there were some of us on Aries, just like 
those on Adama's planet, Caprica, who were doing very special research. We 
felt that there was so much that was not known about the potential of the 
mind, about how thought could influence our surroundings, even possibly 
help the healing process, and so on. What we discovered was so dramatic we 
felt sure the general public might be likely to panic. We felt we needed 
more test subjects, more data. We discovered that everyone at the center 
could do something, but there were some of us who were, I suppose, gifted, 
able to tap into incredible powers and abilities. I was one of the most 
powerful people in that center. I could read people's minds, feel their 
emotions and physical responses, and I could move objects--heavy ones like 
fully-loaded rover vehicles." She broke off and searched Dr. Zee's face.
     Dr. Zee felt calmer, now, listening to her and feeling her closeness 
in a way he had never felt from anyone. He could almost feel her mind 
touching his with an almost imperceptible touch. That touch was so gentle, 
so understanding; he desperately longed to reach out and hold onto it. 
There was safety in it, a kind he had never known. He could trust it.
     The boy felt her smile. "Ah, you can feel that, yes? Good."
     "Please," his trembling voice was barely above a whisper, "go on. I 
want to know more. Adama had said, too, that the social climate indicated 
that such information would cause problems."
     Celesta nodded, settling herself more comfortably, her arm close 
around Dr. Zee. "Think about your reaction to what happened to you, Dr. 
Zee. You were terrified. It didn't matter that you have an intelligence 
far beyond the normal. Can you imagine the fear that could touch a whole 
planet, particularly if there is misinformation?"
     Dr. Zee shuddered. He could, indeed. He drew closer to Celesta.
     She closed her eyes for a moment and Dr. Zee could see a trace of 
pain and sadness. "I was frightened," she said softly, "frightened enough 
to want to quit; frightened enough to want to just forget it all. But, I 
was also deeply fascinated and wanted to learn more. I wanted to know how 
well I would be able to control these things. Would they just happen? What 
kind of triggers would set them off? There were so many questions, and I 
wanted the answers really badly. So the fear was shoved aside to make room 
for the student."
     Celesta chuckled slightly, pulled the apple from her pocket, polished 
it and took a bite. "MM--nice." Chewing her mouthful, she held it out to 
Dr. Zee who took it and bit. He smiled at her and handed it back, nodding 
agreement. It was good.
     Celesta continued her story, intermittently taking bites from the 
apple. "I learned that emotion was definitely a trigger, and the results 
could be very scary--like the time I got angry with one of my copartners 
and had the most wonderful vision of him hanging upside down from the 
ceiling. The next thing I saw was that man hanging from the ceiling by his 
boots, staring at me and begging me not to release him for fear he might 
break his neck. We just looked at each other, both of us feeling a sense 
of panic, I eased him down to the floor and we both stood in silence for a 
bit. Then he started laughing and said, 'I'll know better than to make you 
angry again.' It was definitely a learning experience for me. I did 
discover that by using relaxation techniques and building up a strong 
mental and emotional discipline, I could, in fact, really control these 
gifts. I had to learn to realize that I ruled them, they didn't have to 
rule me. What a revelation!"
     She tossed the core of the apple into the air and Dr. Zee watched in 
wrapped fascination as it began to float in lazy circles, spirals and 
loops. She was playing with it, he realized. She was obviously in full 
control of this telekinetic gift, tapping into it by desire, not because 
of emotional impulse.
     The core finally dropped from the air into the reservoir. "You can 
learn to control these gifts of yours, Dr. Zee." Her hand cupped his chin 
and drew his face to her own. "Listen to me, little one," and Dr. Zee 
realized there were tears forming in her black eyes, "you have been on my 
heart since I discovered the happenings of seven years ago. You can never 
know how much I wanted to reach out to you then, but I couldn't. You 
closed down; invading your privacy would have caused you more unnecessary 
discomfort. All I could do was to hope and pray that a time would come 
when the opportunity would present itself for me to help you. When I 
realized we were going to be so close to the trigger of all your problems, 
I knew I had to seize the moment and hope I could find an open door." Her 
compassionate eyes met his desperate ones. "Can I find an open door?"
     Dr. Zee found himself unable to hold back tears. He dropped his head 
against Celesta's shoulder and felt her arms holding him close, gently 
rocking him as the emotions which had been suppressed for so long rushed 
out in heavy sobs. He could feel her mental and emotional closeness, 
too--that feeling of safety and security. He felt her acknowledgment of 
his anger, frustration and deep hurt as well as of the mental and 
emotional fatigue brought about by the price he had paid for so many years 
of detachment and suppression. He was filled with her sensitive 
encouragement as she told him softly but with firmness to, "Let it out, 
now; I'm not going to hurt you, little one; just let the pain go, now."
     "I don't know that I can," he sobbed. "It's been part of me for so 
long. I wanted to tell Adama all of it right away, but I just couldn't. It 
frightened me so, and I thought that, surely, if I couldn't understand it 
all, he couldn't possibly."
     "Yes, child, I know," Celesta responded with verbal and mental 
gentleness. "But you told him last night, didn't you?" Dr. Zee nodded. 
"Can you tell me what brought you to it?"
     "I don't know. I knew he wanted answers; he suspected that my problem 
with Wellington was not resolved. I could see he was concerned and felt 
something--I'm not sure how to describe it. But I felt I had to take the 
risk. It was even harder for me than the surgery."
     Celesta allowed herself a gentle laugh. "I see, and was Adama's 
reaction what you had thought it would be?"
     "No," replied Dr. Zee softly. He couldn't stop the tears which kept 
welling up within him. "I still can't believe the understanding and almost 
incredible empathy and--and love."
     "And that's what you really needed and need now, precious one." 
Celesta embraced him physically, mentally, emotionally. Her mind felt to 
Dr. Zee like an open ear waiting to hear and understand anything he could 
possibly pour into it.
     "Release it," she said in a gentle but firm tone. "I can handle it 
and help you to handle it, too."
     Dr. Zee felt himself releasing, pouring out his thoughts and emotions 
into that open ear. He could feel them caught and embraced; her mind 
helping his to piece it all together and make sense of things which had 
been a complete enigma to him. As they communicated in this way, he slowly 
began to feel that he could handle things now; he could allow his emotions 
to open up. Of course, this might bring about more questions from the 
people around him, but, he realized, he could probably deal with them, 
too. Knowing that he had such a source of understanding and help in 
Celesta gave him an inner peace and strength he hadn't felt for a long 
time--if ever.

                          17. Finding Wholeness

     After a while, Dr. Zee's sobs quieted; he felt his head begin to 
clear. He slowly lifted it, looking into that gentle face smiling at him. 
He felt exhausted--more tired than he could remember feeling in a very 
long time. There was peace in him, however--something he had only been 
able to imagine and wonder about, but had never been able to grasp. 
Letting his head rest against her shoulder again, he spoke, his voice 
hoarse, "Please help me, Celesta! I have no one else to turn to!"
     "I will, my dear," she replied. "You have taken some major steps 
toward your own healing. Now, just let your real self come out. So what if 
people see you smile more or shed some tears. Perhaps they will begin to 
understand that there is a lot more than an intellectual wizard inside 
you--something very special."
     Dr. Zee had often heard the word 'special' with reference to his 
abilities, but it had a different connotation coming from Celesta. She 
accepted him as a whole being, unique, not because of his intellect, but 
because of all that he was, every mental, emotional and physical facet of 
him. 'Special' was something good, not something to fear or to hate. He 
could learn to love himself, he realized, and allow himself to show more 
openly his love to others.
     "I can understand why you and Adama had no references to the special 
research in your personnel files," said Dr. Zee slowly, lifting his eyes 
to Celesta's. "It's just that--"
     Celesta smiled, anticipating him. "You might have been spared seven 
years of grief? Perhaps. But it's possible that, even with all the grief 
and pain, you learned things about yourself that otherwise you might not 
have. Think about it. I expect you may probably be able to empathize more 
than you would if things had been easier."
     "Interesting thought," murmured Dr. Zee.
     Celesta knew that this whole experience had probably drained him; he 
needed time to just be. "You're exhausted, my friend," she responded, 
gathering him into her arms, "and you need to rest. Emotional energy can 
wear a body out just as physical energy can. Later, or tomorrow, we can 
explore your gift."
     Dr. Zee was beginning to feel more whole, now, he thought. Someone 
had, with gentleness and love, crashed through his barriers, showing a 
kind of understanding so new to him and a willingness to help him assemble 
all the pieces of his fragmented puzzle.
     Slowly he pulled himself up. He felt physically shaky. As he looked 
down at the ground, he wondered if he had the strength to make a safe 
jump. "I hope I can get down from here as easily as I got up." His voice 
sounded tired.
     Celesta reached out and clasped him to her. "Just hang on," she 
smiled. "I'll get ya down."
     With that, she leaped from the branch holding a rather startled Dr. 
Zee in her arms, landing lightly on the ground. She set him on his feet. 
They stood looking around at the farm, the tree, the reservoir and--"Oh, 
felgercarb," Celesta muttered. Turning to Dr. Zee, she pushed on his 
shoulder. "Get down!" she hissed. The two of them slipped behind a bush 
and crunched down, making themselves as invisible as possible.
     Dr. Zee had also seen Wellington walking with two of the other 
children carrying large buckets. He watched with Celesta until they had 
disappeared from view. "Thank you," he breathed softly.
     As they emerged from the bush, Dr. Zee noted worry and unhappiness on 
Celesta's face. "What is it, Celesta? What's wrong? He didn't see us, did 
he?"
     Celesta exhaled, a frown deepening on her face. "No, I don't think 
so. But I feel trouble," she responded in a low voice. "That boy is 
trouble! I can sense that young Wellington just a bit too strongly and I 
can tell you that his entire focus of thought is in plotting revenge. And 
he's devious, calculating, and he holds onto a grudge tighter than a 
dagget holding onto its last meal."
     Dr. Zee drew close to Celesta. "I never wanted to hurt Wellington," 
he said tremulously. "I tried to apologize, but--"
     "Apologize to Wellington?" A look of exasperation touched Celesta's 
face as she threw up her hands. "No, not to him! You could apologize till 
the last Cylon in the universe disintegrated and get no where! I should 
know; I was a tutor of his. And I will tell you, my gentle-hearted friend, 
that the only thing he understands is a good, swift kick."
     She took a long breath and regained her composure. "Dr. Zee," and her 
hand softly touched his cheek, "you are a gentle-hearted soul. Of course, 
you didn't want to hurt Wellington just like I really didn't want to hurt 
my copartner. And you still don't. Neither do I. But--" A long sigh came 
from her which seemed to emanate from her very core. "This is going to 
take some thought, little one. You may have to confront him and make him 
talk to you. It won't be easy for you or for him."
     Dr. Zee let his eyes half close as he murmured, "I wish I had 
reinforcements."
     Celesta laughed and gave him a brief hug. "You might be surprised to 
find out that they are there. Perhaps they're just hiding and waiting for 
you to call on them." She could see uncertainty and puzzlement in the 
young face so close to hers.
     "Open your heart," she encouraged. "Listen to the people around you 
with your heart, not your head. Listen, look and feel. I get the very 
strong impression that you have an empathic capability, too. It might help 
you."
     Dr. Zee leaned in the circle of Celesta's arm and gazed into her 
face. "An empath? Me?" Then, thoughtfully, "There have been times when I 
sensed things from people--their emotions or needs. I would block it out. 
I thought, perhaps, it was an imagining or--I'm not sure."
     "I would say, then, that you are an empath, and you may need it to 
help you now, both to find those reinforcements you need and to feel out 
Wellington."
     Celesta's chin rested on his lifted forehead. "None of this is going 
to be easy, child," she murmured. "But I promise you I'll be there if 
things get rough. You don't have to go this alone any longer."
     The usually reserved Dr. Zee, not known for emotional reaction or 
display, threw his arms around Celesta and hugged her, pressing his face 
against her shoulder, tears of gratitude and relief in his eyes. It felt 
good and right. He thought of times when he would have liked to hug 
people, but had been hesitant to do so for reasons he could not 
comprehend. He needed that kind of contact, he knew; it added to his 
feeling of wholeness.
     Celesta responded lovingly, reaching out her warmth and love and 
compassion to him, feeling it accepted with deep appreciation. "Come on, 
pull yourself together somewhat, and we'll walk back to the house and get 
something cold to drink. It is getting a bit hot out here." She pushed her 
hair back from her forehead. "Maybe you will get some rest, too. Later, 
I'll load my personal journals of those research days into your computron 
and you can read them at your convenience."
     "You would share your personal journals with me?" Dr. Zee was 
incredulous.
     "Why not," Celesta smiled. "Perhaps, seeing all the frack I went 
through and the things it did to me might help your perspective."
     He looked at her with awed respect. "I'm honored," he breathed.
     Celesta made some comment in Arian, which Dr. Zee knew fairly well, 
and he laughed slightly, allowing himself to really smile. The best 
translation of the comment in earth terms would have been, "Gimmee a 
break."
     As they walked back to the house, Celesta suddenly started to laugh. 
"Celesta," Dr. Zee's smile broadened. "Whatever is so funny?"
     "Oh, I was just thinking," she smiled, "You really should loosen up 
your speech a bit, my friend. You've learned to speak so beautifully and 
precisely, which is wonderful, but I think you'd get a better response if 
you drop some of the--um--formality."
     "Perhaps you're right; I am a bit formal. I always was, I suppose. 
How do you think I can--well--loosen up?"
     "Try to go with the flow; it might actually help you to feel more 
comfortable interacting, too."
     "Go with the flow?"
     "Yeah. Don't be so quick to look up the stuff in the computron; just 
listen."
     It was Dr. Zee's turn to laugh. "You obviously learn fast. You are 
beginning to sound like a born Earthling!" 
     Celesta squeezed his shoulder. "We'll both get the hang of it."
     "Lord, I hope so," sighed Dr. Zee.

                       18. Listening With The Heart

     Maria came out onto the porch with some laundry just as Celesta and 
Dr. Zee were climbing the steps. Dr. Zee looked pale and exhausted, but 
there was an inner calmness in his eyes that had not really been there 
before. It was his paleness which concerned her. "Dr. Zee!" she dropped 
her laundry on a table and moved quickly to him. "Are you all right? You 
didn't push too hard after this major surgery you had?"
     Celesta's words rang in Dr. Zee's ears: 'Listen with your heart'." As 
he looked at Maria's concerned face, he felt an unaccustomed warmth toward 
her. Before he realized what he was doing, he pressed her shoulder and 
smiled. "I'm all right, Maria, really. Perhaps I just need something cold 
to drink."
     Maria responded with a gentle press to Dr. Zee's own shoulder and a 
motherly nod as she steered him to a chair. Dr. Zee could feel her warmth 
responding to him, he realized, and it felt so incredibly wonderful. He 
knew he would have to hold back the tears of joy he wanted to release--at 
least for now. He knew it would be uncomfortable for the people around him 
to see too sudden a change.
     "It's the heat and the thinner atmosphere, I suppose," Maria smiled. 
"Lancer insisted on helping Hector with hay bales shortly after arriving 
and passed out about a half hour later. Dillon checked him out and said 
that, because you're used to a denser atmosphere, you need to adapt."
     "Yes, that is true," replied Dr. Zee.
     "Would you be more comfortable with water, or do you want to be 
adventurous?" Maria smiled broadly as her eyes took in Celesta who 
definitely seemed to want to be adventurous.
     Dr. Zee contemplated a moment. He could almost feel a mental nudge 
from Celesta, encouraging him to be adventurous, also. "What is that 
called?" he asked pointing to a tall glass on one of the porch railings.
     Maria followed the direction of his hand, then looked at Dr. Zee 
trying desperately to repress a smile. "I really don't think you want to 
drink that." Her efforts failed and she broke into laughter. "That will 
really turn your taste buds upside down. It's plant food for my little 
friends over here." She pointed to three potted plants sitting in a 
semi-shaded portion of the porch.
     Celesta collapsed into a chair, head in hands, shoulders shaking with 
laughter, and Dr. Zee, looking at the two women and trying to envision 
himself drinking plant food started to laugh, too.
     Maria ruffled his hair. "I'll get you some lemonade," she gasped. 
"How about for you, Celesta?"
     Celesta could only nod, wiping tears of laughter from her red face.
     When Maria had gone into the kitchen to procure the drinks, Celesta 
leaned over to Dr. Zee. "And I thought I was bad," she said, still 
laughing. "This morning at breakfast, I saw a bottle sitting just behind 
those lovely potatoes. It had a label that said 'Old Spice', and I didn't 
bother to read the rest of it. Rather stupid! I opened the bottle with 
great enthusiasm and just stopped myself short of sprinkling a cologne 
over the potatoes. Hector had forgotten to bring it up to his room! I 
thought Maria would beat him with it. I do know she spouted off something 
to him in--I think it's called--Spanish. Poor Hector turned such a lovely 
shade of red, grabbed the bottle and disappeared." She dissolved into 
hysterics.
     Dr. Zee laughed, probably for the first time inn his life, so hard 
that he almost choked. "I hope we don't both kill ourselves trying to be 
adventurous," it was his turn to wipe tears.
     Celesta held her stomach. "Well, if we have to die, let it be 
laughing."
     Maria swept through the kitchen door delivering two large glasses of 
lemonade and tossing two very cold wet towels over two astonished heads. 
"I think the heat has gotten to you," she chuckled.
     The lemonade was good and cold; the towels, too, felt good against 
the neck, thought Dr. Zee, wiping perspiration from his face and neck. He 
glanced over at Celesta who had managed to recover herself and was 
standing beside Maria, drinking lemonade and helping her hang laundry. 
Those wooden objects--'clothes pins'--were certainly interesting.
     Carefully draping the towel across the back of his chair, he rose, 
put down his glass and walked toward the two women. "Might I be of some 
assistance, Maria?" he asked.
     Maria's eyes tracked across his face. She sighed. "What I really need 
right now is a pair of very strong hands to help me mix an awful lot of 
tortilla dough."
     "That doesn't seem too difficult," he replied.
     "Well," and he could see Maria glance at Celesta who just grinned. 
"But, this will take a lot of strength for lifting and--with the 
surgery--maybe I should get--"
     Dr. Zee discerned the problem. "It's all right, Maria," he responded 
gently. She was really concerned for him, he was sure of that. "Our 
techniques let the body heal many times faster than what you may be 
accustomed to. I don't have to deal with incisions or sutures which cause 
a lot of stretching of the skin, pain and so-on." He could see she was 
still concerned, so he pulled up his shirt revealing clear skin with no 
trace of bandage, suture or scar.
     "Amazing!" breathed Maria.
     Celesta broke in, gently, "Dr. Zee is also the type of person who 
needs to be involved in something, Maria. I'm sure that, if he needs help, 
he'll let us know." She smiled to herself as she could sense Dr. Zee's 
relief and heart-felt thanks.
     "Okay, do you think you can lift a hundred pounds?"
     "Oh yes, easily," was Dr. Zee's confident response.
     Maria surveyed him. "You don't look like you weigh a hundred pounds 
yourself."
     "I believe it's about a hundred and twenty or something," he replied.
     Maria chuckled. "Where do you hide it? Well, let's get ya started."  
Maria turned toward the kitchen, adding over her shoulder to Celesta, 
"I'll get him oriented and going and then we can finish that," pointing to 
the laundry.

                         19. Dillon's Discoveries

     Dillon came into the kitchen a half-hour later to throw cold water on 
his face and down his throat. He was startled to see Dr. Zee almost up to 
his elbows in a vat of some type of dough, lifting huge handfuls and 
hand-mixing them with a pitcher of water beside him. This image was 
certainly a far cry from the usually immaculate form of Dr. Zee.
     "Good Grief!" Dillon was endeavoring to conceal laughter. He had 
always felt uncomfortable allowing his emotions to express themselves to 
any great degree in Dr. Zee's presence; perhaps that was because Dr. Zee 
usually seemed so devoid of them. But when Dillon saw the trace of 
laughter in the youth's eyes, he succumbed. "What is that supposed to 
become?"
     Dr. Zee straightened, picked up a damp towel and wiped his 
flour-stained face. "Oh, Dillon," he, too was laughing. "Could you please 
pass me that?" he pointed to a lemonade on the sideboard. "Can you tell me 
what a tortilla is? Because, whatever it is, Maria says she'll be making a 
great many--" his hand swept in the direction of the vat, "from this."
     Dillon chuckled. He had often tried to imagine what Dr. Zee might be 
like if he would allow himself to open up--even a bit. Now, he was seeing 
before him a completely different image than the one presented on the 
Galactica. This Dr. Zee could smile, had laughed, and had allowed himself 
to be pulled into service creating a month's word of tortilla dough. The 
usually immaculate, fastidious youth now had a sweat band holding back 
mussed hair and was covered with flour.
     Dillon realized he had here a chance to learn more about the 
seemingly unapproachable Dr. Zee. His mind was so filled with questions; 
could he dare to ask any of them?
     He handed over the lemonade. "Tortillas," he said, "well, did you see 
that stuff Trent was wrapping around his sausages? Those flat round 
things?" Dr. Zee nodded. "That's the finished product," smiled Dillon. 
"They can be baked or fried, soft or hard, and are used a lot around here. 
I have to admit they can be oh-so-good fried hard with this bean stuff 
Maria makes, lots of cheese and something called salsa--real spicy stuff. 
They're called natchos." Dillon stripped off his sweat-covered tee-shirt. 
Throwing more cool water on himself, he waved a hand to Dr. Zee. "Hey, 
could ya use a hand?"
     Dr. Zee pushed blond hair back from his eyes with a bedoughed finger. 
"Have you done this before?"
     "Yeah, last month," replied Dillon, appropriating a glass of lemonade 
for himself and pulling over another chair. He could see Dr. Zee's glass 
was almost completely depleted. "Wanna refill on that?"
     "Yeah, thanks."
     Dillon was caught a bit off guard. Dr. Zee's speech pattern, usually 
so precise, was even loosening up. Dillon realized he wasn't experiencing 
the feeling of intimidation he normally felt when dealing with this young 
intellectual giant. In fact, he felt a desire to try to relate to and 
understand Dr. Zee.
     Dillon refilled Dr. Zee's glass and handed it back to him. Dr. Zee 
smiled, took a couple of large swallows, set the glass down beside him on 
the floor and dumped more water from the pitcher into the vat. He watched 
as Dillon slammed his hand into the vat.
     "Yup, just about the right consistency," Dillon approved. "And, man, 
it's a lot o' messy work."
     Dr. Zee's hands joined Dillon's in the moist muck. "Last month?" was 
Dr. Zee's query.
     "Uhhuh. Every month she makes a barrel of this dough so she always 
has it available. She keeps it in the pantry in a plastic bag on ice." 
Dillon chuckled. "Like I say, they're a staple around here even more so 
than bread. They're part of the Mexican culture. And, since both Hector 
and Maria are Mexican-American, well--oops!"
     The handful of dough Dillon tried to wield had been just a bit too 
large. Dr. Zee reached across, catching the glop that had been about to 
hit the floor. The two of them wrestled with the dough, stuffing it back 
into the barrel.
     "Good catch!" There was admiration in his tone.
     Dr. Zee could see that Dillon was also becoming batter-spattered. To 
Dillon's surprise, Dr. Zee looked up at one point, a curious expression on 
his face; he sat back to flex his shoulders, rested his chin in his hand 
and exclaimed softly, "There must be another way to do this!"
     Dillon had to smile. He had often wanted to cheat and use the food 
processor, too. "Well," he responded with some reluctance, "there is, but 
Maria will have our heads. She wants it done the 'real way', as she calls 
it." he pointed to the food processor. "Believe me, I asked her about 
using the food processor to mix this." Dillon grimaced. "If looks could 
kill, I'd be dead right now!"
     Dr. Zee nodded slowly. "Okay," he said with something like a tone of 
resignation. "I would like to keep my head, I think." He readjusted his 
position and began to work.
     Dillon smiled slightly. He was definitely seeing a facet of Dr. Zee 
which had eluded him before. He knew that Dr. Zee was capable of showing 
compassion; he had, after all, taken a great risk in bringing his ship 
down to save three of the Galactican children who had been affected by 
toxins in a stream at the Stamford Chemical Plant in Paradise Valley. Dr. 
Zee had even anticipated and acted upon Dillon's suggestion of simulating 
for the plant manager what could happen if steps were not taken to clean 
up the waste.
     Dillon had often heard that it was lonely at the top, and Dr. Zee was 
at least as on top as Commander Adama. Dillon tried to imagine how Dr. Zee 
could handle with such expertise the monumental responsibilities presented 
to him. Dr. Zee had never failed, wavered or erred in his research, 
strategic or tactical   decisions. He was never overruled by the Council 
of Twelve; even command decisions were passed through him for his 
commentary and approval prior to their implementation. He was so young, 
thought Dillon, and maybe that compounded the loneliness factor, too.
     Maybe, part of the problem was their fault--the fault of the fleet, 
the Council and, yes, even the commander. Knowing that they could trust 
Dr. Zee's wisdom and intellect had made it easy to transfer a lot onto 
those young, accepting shoulders.
     "The stress must be incredible!" thought Dillon. "I can't remember 
Dr. Zee ever taking a furlon. Maybe, being here is as close to one as 
he'll get."
     "Dillon?" Dillon started, realizing that he had been sitting with a 
handful of dough, staring out into space. He could see concern mixed with 
a little smile on Dr. Zee's face. "Are you all right, Lieutenant?"
     "Yeah," Dillon shook his head abruptly to clear it. "I just got to 
thinking, that's all." He began working the dough again. "I think we're 
done with this for another month. Now, we just have to bag it."
     Dr. Zee nodded, holding Dillon's eyes. "Yes," he said quietly, "and 
those thoughts have question marks."
     Dillon blinked, sitting back in his chair. There was that intensity 
again, but there was something else, too, almost like an acknowledgment, a 
willingness to listen.
     Dillon shrugged, realizing he was probably displaying more discomfort 
than he had intended. Dr. Zee also sat back, readjusting the sweat band.
     "A lot of people have questions about me; I know this." Dillon 
watched Dr. Zee pull himself up from the stool and stretch to relieve 
tensed muscles. For a brief instant, Dillon was sure he had seen a touch 
of a tremor in Dr. Zee's lips as he said, "It may surprise you to know 
that I have several myself. But, if you are really interested, I shall try 
to give you some answers."
     Dillon had not expected this from Dr. Zee. He had thought that Dr. 
Zee would close down, perhaps. But no, he was offering Dillon an 
opening--a tenuous one, perhaps, but an opening nevertheless.
     Dillon felt he had to take the chance. He, too, stood up, retrieved a 
huge plastic bag from a cabinet and began to stuff dough into it. The 
question popped out before Dillon could stop it. "What's it like, Dr. Zee? 
How do you deal with so much and stay so--"
     "Collected?" Dr. Zee sat down and held the bag open for Dillon. "This 
is definitely a four-handed project," he added with a slight smile. Then 
he sighed. "I have to be so. At least, I truly felt that I did. But, 
perhaps, I need to re-evaluate a lot of things in my own life and how 
those things will impact upon the lives of those of the fleet."
     Dillon's eyes widened. What was he hearing? And what was he seeing in 
that pale face so close to his own? Vulnerability? Impossible! Not Dr. 
Zee! But, yes, it was there, and Dillon felt something well up inside 
him--compassion and real concern.
     Dr. Zee had always projected an air of power and invulnerability. 
Perhaps his close brush with death had triggered this need for 
re-evaluation. Dr. Zee was not indestructible. Dillon knew that he had to 
come to terms with that realization as would the rest of the fleet. Dr. 
Zee was right in thinking that whatever changes he made in his life would 
have an effect all around.
     "Can I ask--uh--what kind of changes?"
     Dr. Zee was silent for a moment, then responded, "I'm not really 
sure, in total honesty, Dillon. What I am sure of is that many of the 
perceptions and beliefs held concerning me will no doubt be challenged, 
particularly those which hold that I am indestructible, invulnerable and 
inerrant."
     Dr. Zee watched Dillon's reaction. He expected the astonishment and 
disbelief as Dillon exclaimed, "I can't ever recall you making an error in 
anything!"
     "But I have, Lieutenant--a grave one. Perhaps one day I'll be able to 
tell you about it."
     Dillon realized he had reached out and placed a hand on Dr. Zee's 
arm. "Look," he said awkwardly, "I--um--I'd like to help you if I can. I 
really mean it. It's just that I know so little about you; maybe I could 
understand if I knew more."
     Dr. Zee could see genuine concern in Lieutenant Dillon's eyes, an 
honest wish to aid him. He liked Dillon and wanted to trust Dillon's 
honesty, but how far could that trust go? Another risk, thought Dr. Zee. 
How should he respond?
     "Perhaps you already have helped by realizing that there is more than 
just intellect in my makeup," Dr. Zee responded. "If you can accept that, 
Dillon, then you will have helped me more than you might think."
     Dillon dropped the handful of dough he held into the bag and really 
focused on Dr. Zee's face. It held a tenuous hopefulness mixed with some 
apprehension, clearly seeking a response from Dillon.
     It was lonely at the top, thought Dillon. Another thought suddenly 
struck him, too. Could the fact that Dr. Zee had not been born within the 
fleet be having an impact on him as well? Possibly, he felt differences 
that Dillon couldn't truly comprehend. Whatever was inside Dr. Zee, Dillon 
felt ready to accept all of it and all of him.
     He found himself pressing Dr. Zee's shoulder as he said softly, "I 
guess it is lonely at the top, huh?" Dr. Zee just nodded. "How come you've 
never taken a furlon?"
     "Where can I go?" was Dr. Zee's simple response. "For me to take a 
true furlon, I would have to remove myself from the fleet. Up till now, 
that's been impossible." A curious little smile tracked across Dr. Zee's 
lips, then he dropped his head back and started to laugh. "I suppose you 
could say I've been forced to take a furlon, now."
     Dillon groaned and, acting on impulse, placed an arm around Dr. Zee's 
shoulders and gave a squeeze. He had to laugh, too. "Yeah, I guess. But 
maybe you need it more than you wanna admit."
     Dr. Zee smiled. He could feel Dillon's acceptance. "Maybe I do, 
indeed. But right now," he pressed Dillon's shoulder and pointed to the 
vat, "I think we'd better finish this or Maria will have our heads."
     Dillon grinned. "Right. And like you said, I really wanna keep mine 
intact and in place!"

                        20. Finding Reinforcements

     A few minutes later, hector, Gloria, Maria and Celesta tromped into 
the kitchen, arms full of packages. Hector beamed at Dr. Zee. "Ah-Ha! Were 
you drafted or did you volunteer?"
     Dr. Zee and Dillon were busily stuffing the huge plastic bag with 
their hard work. Celesta leaned against the sink and giggled, sensing that 
Dr. Zee was actually enjoying the activity and, possibly, even the 
interaction with Dillon in a not-so-formal setting.
     "I--uh--volunteered." Dr. Zee straightened so that he could hold the 
bag closed while Dillon clamped it shut.
     Dillon smiled. "The kids had taken a swim break so I figured I'd come 
up here and see if Maria needed any help and, I guess, I volunteered, 
too." He added softly to the bag, "Don't you dare break on us." He took a 
quick look at Dr. Zee, feeling a bit embarrassed about talking to an 
inanimate object. Dr. Zee showed no real surprise. In fact, he just winked 
and started to lift the bag.
     As they carted it into the pantry and Dillon showed him the storage 
place, Dr. Zee leaned toward Dillon and said slowly, "You may not be aware 
of this, Lieutenant, but there have been times when Adama has caught me 
talking to inanimate objects."
     Dillon's head lifted and he gaped slightly. "Sorry," he stammered, "I 
just somehow couldn't imagine--"
     Dr. Zee listened and looked with his heart, becoming more aware of 
the fact that Dillon might be one of those reinforcements he had been 
seeking. Dillon had accepted him, he felt, perhaps more completely than 
had been expected. Dr. Zee knew he couldn't reveal as much as he might 
truly wish to Dillon, but he felt that he could allow himself to share 
some things.  Maybe Dillon could help him in some way. But how? Well, for 
now, just the fact that Dillon was willing was enough. Dr. Zee would have 
to bounce this off of Celesta, since she was the true empath.
     "You may discover a lot of things you may not have been able to 
imagine, Dillon." Dr. Zee's face was creased with a smile, but Dillon was 
sure he had seen, too, something which could only be described as regret. 
But the smile broadened as Dr. Zee rose from the floor and looked down at 
himself, then at Dillon. "I think we both are in desperate need of a 
scrub."
     Dillon, too, regarded Dr. Zee and himself. "Maria will murder us if 
we track this upstairs," he mused. "I usually just grab the dish soap, a 
couple towels, and hose down outside. It's cold, but, hot as it is right 
now, it'll probably feel great!"
     Dr. Zee nodded. The two walked out to the kitchen, Dillon did take 
the dish soap and some towels. They ran for the hose.
     Celesta smiled to herself. She, too, felt that Dillon would be a good 
reinforcement. He seemed pliable, and was obviously delighting in his 
discovery that there was more to Dr. Zee than normally met the eye. "How 
much could we tell him?" she wondered. She sensed, also, that Dr. Zee had 
opened to Dillon and wanted to share at least some of himself. But he was 
hesitant. Perhaps he felt he needed her approval.
     "Learning how to trust again is hard," Celesta thought. Gently she 
sent encouragement to Dr. Zee's mind; she approved of Dillon.
     The hose did feel good. As they stripped down and washed up, Dillon 
remembered rumors he had heard about Dr. Zee being a Junior Triad 
champion. As he looked at the slender form standing beside him, he tried 
to imagine Dr. Zee on the court. If anything, thought Dillon, because of 
Dr. Zee's slightness of build, speed and coordination would probably have 
been his advantages. If the rumors were true, why had he not continued? 
Would Troy know? After all, Adama was supposed to be Dr. Zee's official 
guardian or something. Was this one of the questions Dr. Zee would answer?
     "Dillon, do you really need that much?"
     Dillon blinked, feeling Dr. Zee's hand turning his. "Oh, man," 
groaned Dillon, realizing he had been so lost in thought that he had 
proceeded to squeeze almost half the bottle of soap down his chest.
     Dr. Zee grabbed a wet shirt and helped Dillon to rinse off the 
overload of soap. "Was your state of deep thought another question?"
     "Yeah, I guess you could say that," replied Dillon with some 
embarrassment. "Looks like I owe Maria a bottle of dish soap. Yuck!"
     Dr. Zee tried not to laugh, but Dillon could see it in his eyes. 
"Would you want to share some of these deep thoughts? Perhaps I can give 
you some semi-reasonable answers."
     Dillon reached for the hose again to squirt off the last of the soap 
while Dr. Zee shoved his own hair into place. "Were you really a Triad 
champ?"
     Dr. Zee's face assumed a myriad of expressions--surprise, curiosity, 
laughter, perhaps a twinge of sadness. "Yes," he replied. "I had to drop 
out due to certain--um--problems, I guess you could call them. Perhaps, 
one day, I can give you a fuller explanation. But, yes, my team won 
several matches. My game was mostly based on the fact that I could build 
up a lot of speed on the court."
     Dillon had to ask, "Do you miss it?"
     "Actually, yes; in some ways I do. And you? Do you miss it, Dillon?" 
Dr. Zee smiled and started to laugh as he saw Dillon's expression. "Don't 
think I'm not aware of your winning streak."
     Dillon reached to shut off the water and smiled back at Dr. Zee. 
"Yeah, I do miss it. But basketball isn't too bad. Troy and I are getting 
pretty good at it."
     "You'll have to tell me about it some time." Dr. Zee had picked up 
the pile of wet, dirty, soapy clothes in a towel. "But now, what do we do 
with these?"
     Dillon grinned, grabbed the pile and pitched it into a basket a few 
yards away. "I'll dump this down the laundry shoot."
     "Laundry shoot?" Dr. Zee seemed perplexed. "Dillon, I'm going to tell 
you something which will no doubt shock you, but I think you should know 
that when it comes to Earth's colloquial lingo I feel terribly 
inadequate."
     Dillon regarded Dr. Zee for a long moment. Dr. Zee? Feeling 
inadequate? Why not! "No, I can understand it. Compiling the data is one 
thing; hearing it, speaking it, living it--that's another. And the lingo? 
Just be glad Troy and I haven't learned Valley talk." Dillon laughed.
     "Valley talk?"
     Dillon cleared his throat, gave Dr. Zee his most serious face, and 
said, "Oh, like you would just do-i-e-die if we started talkin' like 
that--like gag me with a spoon!"
     Dillon watched Dr. Zee who lost it completely, laughing until tears 
ran down his face. "Oh, Dillon," he managed "people really talk like 
that?"
     "Like I said," and Dillon, too, broke up, "Gag me with a spoon!"
     They had connected--really connected, thought Dr. Zee. They walked 
into the kitchen, still laughing, Dr. Zee giving Dillon's arm a press as 
he slipped upstairs to pull on some dry clothes.
     Celesta's heart and mind cheered. Yes, Dillon would, indeed be a good 
reinforcement and friend.

                   21. New Relationships, Old Problems.

     As the day wore on, Dr. Zee learned a lot about Earth food and 
cooking as he and Celesta applied themselves to the roles of Maria's 
assistants, helping to prepare the rest of the afternoon and evening 
meals.  "It's incredible how much food those children can eat!" was 
Maria's smiling comment. "And Dillon and Troy are no slouches, either."
     Maria was indeed correct. There were hardly any leftovers at either 
the afternoon or evening meals, and Dr. Zee, too, realized just how hungry 
a body could get. He was normally a light eater, often times skipping 
meals when projects required his undivided attention. Now, he was not sure 
where his stopping point was. He felt like a bottomless pit. As he served 
himself a third portion during the afternoon meal. He felt Maria squeeze 
his shoulder. Looking up, he saw a maternal expression in her eyes as she 
said, "Eat, honey; you could use some meat on those bones."
     It was at the evening meal when the Galactican children and Chris had 
really noticed changes in the usually reserved, aloof Dr.  Zee. His 
appearance, for one thing, was a surprise. He was wearing an old 
shirt--something like a smock top with sleeves rolled up past the elbow. 
His eyes were no longer unreadable--they held a touch of laughter.
     "What's happening?" whispered Jason to the rest of the children. "He 
never smiles."
     "Maybe he just hasn't had the chance to," Starla whispered back. She 
could see him coming out of the kitchen with a huge potful of salad, a 
bottle of dressing protruding from his pocket. "I'm gonna say hi," she 
said resolutely.
     "Right," Moonstone was very skeptical. "You really think you'll get 
an answer? He probably won't even look at you."
     Starla kicked Moonstone in the shin, then turned toward Dr. Zee who 
had just placed the  pot on the server table and was removing the dressing 
from his pocket.
     He lifted his head to shake his blond hair, which seemed more unruly 
than normal, back from his face. Starla's eyes caught his. She smiled 
shyly and found herself starting to move toward him. "Hi," she said. Her 
efforts were rewarded with a small smile and a wave of one hand while he 
began tossing salad with the other.
     Starla's little heart skipped a beat. He had smiled right at her--and 
waved, too! She returned the smile and dropped down beside Moonstone 
again. "See," she whispered, "he can smile!"
     Most of the children scratched heads; Wellington glowered and said 
nothing.
     Lancer noted Wellington's glowering silence and began to get nervous. 
He could see Wellington glancing surreptitiously at Dr. Zee, and his look 
was none too friendly. In fact, it was downright nasty.
     Lancer made a big mistake, then. "Aw, come on, Wellington, he's not 
that bad. A little weird, but not that bad."
     "Shut up, Lancer," mumbled Wellington.
     "Well, what did he ever do to you?" Lancer's eyes had a teasing look 
as he continued, "Like, you're gonna tell me you've got problems with--"
     "I said shut up, Lancer!" The mutter had evolved into a choked yell. 
Before Lancer could move or duck, Wellington's fist slammed into him, 
knocking him from his chair. Lancer fell to the porch and rolled off the 
edge into some shrubs.
     Dr. Zee dropped the salad tongs, turning just in time to see 
Wellington slug Lancer.
     "Oh, felgercarb," growled Celesta who had come up beside Dr.  Zee and 
had observed the whole scenario. She could feel Dr. Zee's mind--his 
concern as to whether or not this might have to do with him. She gently 
touched his head and spoke to his mind. "You bet it does. Keep your head, 
now."
     Dr. Zee Gritted his teeth, suddenly aware of anger within him. He 
didn't want Lancer or anyone else hurt because of Wellington's feelings of 
aggression towards him.
     He jumped from the porch, running a quick scan on Lancer who had 
started to pull himself up from the shrubs. He didn't look really hurt, 
Dr. Zee noted, just dazed and dismayed.
     Lancer felt strong hands lifting him the rest of the way to a 
standing position. His eyes were now in direct contact with Dr. Zee's.  "I 
scanned you, Lancer, and there's nothing broken," said Dr. Zee, pulling 
leaves out of Lancer's hair. "You feel all right?"
     Lancer blinked, then shrugged. "I'll live," he replied uncertainly.  
"I sure felt something hard when I landed, though; probably a stone.  Got 
me in the side." He pointed.
     Dr. Zee took a quick look. "Yes, you've got a bruise there, but 
you'll live, for sure. Go into the kitchen and get some ice from Maria and 
hold it there for a while."
     "Ice?" Lancer had expected something a bit more technical, 
particularly from Dr. Zee.
     "Ice," replied Dr. Zee, helping Lancer back up onto the porch. "Come 
with me."
     As Dr. Zee looked at Lancer, something very strange happened within 
him--the wish to warn Lancer. But how? What could he say?
     He moved toward the kitchen with Lancer and, leaning close to his 
ear, he breathed, "Be careful. Tell the others, too."
     The kitchen door closed behind them as Lancer whispered, "Be careful? 
Of Wellington?" Then a little hesitantly, "Does he have it in for you or 
something?"
     Dr. Zee could see Lancer shrink back, possibly expecting some 
retaliation from him, but he just nodded, and Lancer was sure he saw pain 
in Dr. Zee's intense eyes.
     "Just warn them--covertly! I wish no one harmed because of problems 
between Wellington and me." Dr. Zee's hand tightened on Lancer's arm. "Ask 
no questions; keep the others from asking, too." Lancer saw Dr. Zee's face 
tighten and felt his hand tremble.
     "I promise," whispered Lancer, "No questions from me or anyone else. 
But Wellington's--well--ya might need some protection?"
     Dr. Zee was deeply touched, but he knew there was really nothing the 
children could do, and he didn't want them involved if he could at all 
help it. "No, but thanks for the offer," he softly responded, giving 
Lancer's shoulder a brief squeeze. "Just stay clear. "Oh, what's that 
expression--keep--keep your nose clear."
     Lancer had to laugh. "Keep your nose clean," he replied. "But you're 
close enough."
     They got ice from Maria who clucked at Lancer like a mother hen, and 
headed back out to the porch.
     Meanwhile, Celesta had collared Wellington, fixing him with that 
incredibly calm, knowing, unwavering stare. "Having a bad day, 
Wellington?"
     "You wouldn't understand," Wellington growled.
     "Oh?"
     Wellington tried to look away. Celesta's eyes seemed to be 
penetrating deep into his soul, he felt. It was as if she could see the 
very thoughts in his mind. He glared at her. "No, you just wouldn't!" he 
almost cried.
     Celesta would not allow him to look away. She gently but firmly shook 
him by his collar. "You forget who I am, Wellington?" Her voice had a hard 
edge. "I was your tutor once and, I think, I know you better than you 
think I do."
     Wellington's mind filled with incidents where Celesta had anticipated 
him too well, keeping one step ahead of him and thwarting his attempts to 
test her. Oh, yes, she knew him, too well.  Now, the more Wellington tried 
to look away, the more unsuccessful he was. Finally, in desperation, he 
cried, "Oh, just leave me alone!"
     That soft knowing smile traced Celesta's lips, but it, too, had an 
edge. "All right, Wellington, I'll leave you alone. But the next time I 
see you striking anyone, you're going to have to deal with me and I 
guarantee you, you'll wish you didn't. Do I make myself clear?"
     Wellington's eyes lowered. "Yes, Siress," he mumbled.
     Celesta released his collar and turned to some other tasks at hand. 
Wellington sat down, legs feeling like rubber. He ate little, kept his 
eyes averted and vowed to stay clear of everyone. He didn't want to have 
to answer questions; all he wanted to do was get his hands on Dr. Zee and 
pay him back for plastering him to that wall.
     Chris had really gotten a good look at Dr. Zee, now. Though he was 
taller than Wellington, Chris knew that Wellington probably had a whole 
lot more in the way of brute strength. Seeing Lancer go off the porch like 
that had unnerved Chris. He knew what Lancer's mistake had been--asking 
Wellington questions about--. No, he wasn't going to think about it. "Oh, 
please, God," he prayed, "sure Dr. Zee is a little taller, but I'm scared. 
Wellington's awful mad, and I don't know why. Dr. Zee seems like a nice 
kid after all; he's even gone to help Lancer. Sure hope Lancer's okay.  
But, God, please, do something? I know they're not from earth and all, but 
you made everything and everyone, right? So please send an angel to help 
Dr. Zee. Please, God. Amen."
     Chris discretely moved away from Wellington and noticed the rest of 
the children doing the same.
     Starla had gone white, watching as Dr. Zee had rushed to help Lancer. 
She had seen Dr. Zee's concern, Celesta's glare at Wellington. As much as 
she wanted to do something, she couldn't quell the feeling that she had 
better stay clear, that things were going to explode--and soon.
     Though no more was said by anyone, Celesta knew that she would have 
to begin working with Dr. Zee as soon as possible--even tonight. In her 
heart she disliked having to start so soon, feeling that he needed time to 
adjust to all the emotional turmoil he had experienced that day. But if 
she didn't start tonight, Wellington might inadvertently trigger another 
emotional outpouring of telekinetic wrath.  Celesta didn't know if she 
would be able to block such an occurrence. "No," she thought, "I will have 
to start tonight and hope that Dr. Zee is emotionally strong enough to 
take it all in."

                         22. Kitchen Conversation

     The sun finally set and things began to wind down. Troy and Jamie had 
returned, but she wasn't going to stay. She had an assignment in Los 
Alamos and needed to go home and pack. Since the bikes were still at the 
farm, Dillon and Troy had no lack of transportation.
     The children had been sent to take care of some last-minute evening 
chores. Celesta took off her apron, smiled at Dr. Zee and asked him to go 
for a walk with her. He nodded, sensing that more than a walk was 
Celesta's objective.
     "I don't know how long we'll be gone," she said easily to Hector and 
Maria, "but don't wait up for us."
     Jamie and Troy were grabbing a quick bite in the kitchen before her 
drive back. They saw Celesta and Dr. Zee walk away from the house. Dillon 
sat down with them and asked, "Troy, do you have any idea what's going on 
between Wellington and--and Dr. Zee?"
     "Wellington and Dr. Zee?" Jamie lifted her hands. "Oh, Lord!"
     Troy shook his head. "No, but now you mention it, I noticed 
Wellington's keeping his distance from everyone." Troy searched Dillon's 
rather perplexed face. "Okay, Dillon, what did we miss?"
     Dillon seemed to be groping for words as he told Troy and Jamie of 
the events of the day, of how Dr. Zee had seemed to be more open and 
approachable, how Wellington had kept throwing nasty looks in Dr. Zee's 
direction and had punched out Lancer. "Thing is, the rest of the kids seem 
to sense trouble, too--for Dr. Zee, that is."
     Dillon rose and paced. "Troy, I know you're gonna think I'm crazy, 
but I'm downright scared, and I can't say why for sure." Dillon sat down 
again, resting an elbow on a knee, chin in hand.
     "Ya think maybe I should talk to Dr. Zee?" asked Troy.
     "Aah--I don't know." Dillon looked helpless. "Maybe we should just 
keep our eyes open--just in case."
     "Great," groaned Jamie, "that's all we need--a fight between 
Wellington and Dr. Zee, of all people. Why?" She became thoughtful. "How 
would Dr. Zee hold up? I mean, he's just had that surgery and all, would 
he be physically up to taking on someone like Wellington?"
     "Personally, I can't see him having a physical confrontation with 
anyone, but if it came down to that, I know that he was a Junior Triad 
champion, and that takes a lot of physical endurance," Troy responded.
     "Yeah, but that was a long time ago," Dillon interjected. "I--um--I 
asked him about that. He said his game was based on his speed. He told me 
he had to drop out because of certain circumstances." A sudden shudder 
shook Dillon. "Troy, Wellington's been in that circle, to. You don't think 
something could have happened at a match or something?"
     "I think we're trying to create a monster with all this speculation," 
was Troy's quiet response. "Now, if something did happen," Troy drummed 
his fingers lightly on his knee, "one thing's for sure; Wellington does 
have a mean streak. But I seriously doubt he'd physically try to do 
anything to Dr. Zee."
     "I'm not so sure of that." Dillon's voice was low. "He took out 
Lancer because Lancer asked him--or started to ask him if there was a 
problem with Dr. Zee. You weren't there; you didn't see the look on 
Wellington's face."
     "Troy," Jamie's voice was worried. "Maybe I should take Dr. Zee with 
me--or something--just to--"
     "Look, both of you," Troy strove for control, trying to quash his own 
concern. "All we can do right now is to keep our ears and eyes open. If 
something does happen, hopefully, we'll be there to help." Troy suddenly 
looked up at Dillon. "You asked him about Triad?"
     Dillon nodded. "We talked about a lot of things, actually. I think--" 
Dillon cut himself off quickly. Then after a brief moment he continued. "I 
think Dr. Zee is just kind o' careful about certain things--personal 
information and all that."
     Troy could see that Dillon was not going to be any more specific. 
Perhaps, Dr. Zee had taken Dillon into his confidence. Whatever it was, he 
knew better than to press Dillon for more. He just smiled and said, "Well, 
I'm glad you two are talking." Then he added softly, with a trace of 
sadness, "Something I should have done a long time ago."
     They sat in silence for a few moments. Then Dillon shifted gears. 
"You didn't stop by the clinic today, did you?"
     Troy nodded. "Yeah. Valerie's leaving."
     "Leaving?" Dillon jumped up and looked at Troy and Jamie. "What 
happened? Where will she go?"
     "Dillon," Jamie spoke gently, but her voice held a note of stress. 
Her hand rested on his. "Valerie made a terrible mistake during the 
surgery yesterday. If Dr. Spencer hadn't acted as quickly as he did, Dr. 
Zee would probably have died."
     "What?" gasped Dillon, dropping back into his chair.
     Troy cleared his throat. "She measured the right drug with the wrong 
dosage. Instead of just slowing his heart, the dose stopped it 
completely."
     "She was under a lot of pressure," Jamie said, "and Dr. Spencer said 
that Val doesn't do well under pressure. Apparently, she's had some bad 
situations in the past."
     "Don't worry, Dillon," Troy reassured. "There's a child care center 
in desperate need of a nurse with Val's qualifications. It's not a 
high-pressure job, and she can do the things she's good at--like people 
interactions, things like that."
     Dillon blew out a long breath. "Oh, man! No wonder she was so upset! 
But can she get this other job? Will that mistake hurt her?"
     "I don't think so," replied Jamie. "The surgery was not logged in any 
way, really, except with the Red Cross as a major accidental trauma. Dr. 
Spencer told us he and Val talked for two hours at her place. He promised 
her the best reference. I'll bet you she'll get that job easily."
     "I sure hope so," said Dillon softly. "She seems like a nice person."
     "She is," smiled Troy. "The Doc told her you were concerned and she 
was very appreciative."
     Dillon ran his hand across his eyes. "Looks like we've all had an 
interesting day of it. Hope tomorrow will be better. I'm beat!"
     "And I'd better get going," sighed Jamie, rising wearily to her feet. 
"It's a long drive home. At least I won't have to fight the traffic--well, 
not very much."
     "When do you think you'll be back from Los Alamos?" asked Troy as he 
and Dillon walked out with Jamie.
     "Maybe a couple of days. I'll try to keep in touch by phone, but I 
can't promise."
     She hugged them both, dumped herself into her car and drove 
reluctantly away.

                       23. The Opening Of The Gift

     They had walked to an area which was quiet and secluded. Though the 
sun had set, the sky still seemed light. Dr. Zee could feel things closing 
in on him. He feared that his coming here could prove possibly dangerous 
for the rest of the Galactican children, perhaps even for Chris and the 
others. Yet he had sensed concern for him from Lancer and Starla. He had 
felt strong support from Dillon, too.
     His thoughts were interrupted by Celesta's soft-spoken words, "Yes, I 
think Dillon is definitely a good reinforcement. That is what you wanted 
to ask me, isn't it? And you seem to have made some allies among the rest 
of the children, too."
     Dr. Zee turned abruptly towards her, astonishment melting into 
laughter as he nodded, saying, "I get the impression I can hide very 
little from you, Celesta, particularly when you can truly speak directly 
to my mind."
     "Does that frighten you, Dr. Zee?"
     Dr. Zee was thoughtful as he responded tentatively, "Perhaps, in a 
way, it does, but it's also almost a relief--a sort of--"
     Celesta hugged him gently. They had reached a large rock with a 
comfortable cleft into which they settled themselves. "I know today has 
been hard--such a mixture of happenings and discoveries for you. But 
you've done well, my young friend, surprisingly well." Celesta watched Dr. 
Zee's face as she continued, "Do you think you want to explore further or 
would you rather wait until tomorrow?"
     Dr. Zee could feel his heart pound. If he waited until tomorrow, he 
thought, something might happen that could trigger another episode of this 
telekinetic power. He wanted to understand it before it was unleashed. 
"No," he replied softly, resolutely. "I don't think I can afford to 
wait--and I think you know my reasons."
     "Yes," and Celesta's eyes were soft, filled with deep comprehension. 
"Yes, I do know, and I thought you would give me that answer." With that, 
she stood up and began collecting a bunch of small rocks, branches and 
some other miscellaneous items, arranging them before the great rock so 
they would be visible to Dr. Zee. Upon completion of this, she returned to 
the cleft and dropped beside him.
     "The first thing you need to do," she said, "is to understand that 
emotions can indeed be a trigger of unusual mental abilities, but doesn't 
have to be their ruler. You have the power of choice. Understanding--or 
trying to understand the principles of telekinesis will help. With your 
mind, you are sending forth energy which is translated into a form which 
can physically touch and move, lift or crush an object--or a person." She 
observed a slight shudder from Dr. Zee as she added the part about 'a 
person'. "It can be a very awesome thing, but it can also be an incredibly 
gentle thing."
     As she explained what she could about the dynamics of the mind when 
telekinetically involved, Dr. Zee listened in total absorption. He needed 
and wanted this information. Perhaps through intellectualizing it he could 
learn how to master it.
     "If you look at telekinesis from an intellectual point of view," 
celesta's calm voice continued, "you have only gained a quarter of the 
knowledge you need and, maybe, not even that."
     "But," and Dr. Zee was dismayed, "by being able to understand these 
principles and dynamics, I can more appropriately analyze--"
     Celesta's gentle laugh cut him off. "You think so, do you? Believe 
me, I discovered that all the intellect in the galaxy and probably the 
universe is not going to be the slightest help when the rest of you enters 
in. Oh, one thing I should tell you; you're gonna feel tired--downright 
exhausted. If you have truly understood the intellectual part, you'll 
understand why this is so. Mental energy expelled can be just as 
exhausting as physical energy and, sometimes, even more so, particularly 
when emotions are involved."
     Dr. Zee closed his eyes. "After I picked up Wellington 
telekinetically," he said very thoughtfully, "I did feel exhausted--more 
so than I had ever felt even after the most intense Triad match. In fact, 
I was so depleted that I slept for twelve centahrs, and that never happens 
for me."
     "Uhhuh, and it may happen again. But don't worry. If it does, I'll 
dream up some wonderful medic-type thing." Dr. Zee heard and saw the 
conspiratorial smile. "Shall we begin?"
     Celesta began teaching Dr. Zee how to really clear his mind. He could 
feel her mind touching his so gently, tracking his mental movements, 
helping him stay focused, increasing his understanding of what was really 
happening in his thought and emotion processes. They worked at mental 
focus and discipline for almost two hours, then, the incredible happened.
     Celesta had pointed to two pliable branches. Lifting one with her own 
mind, she began encouraging Dr. Zee to use the new knowledges he had 
gained and try to lift the other. "Turn your fear into something useful," 
she told him. "Remember, you can discipline your emotions; they don't have 
to rule you. The same goes for telekinesis or any other ability. The power 
itself is not a bad thing; it doesn't have to harm you or anyone else 
unless you allow it to do so. It's a part of you, little one. Accept it as 
the precious gift you were meant to have. Now, let's open that gift, and 
see what's inside. I'll be right here with you. Come on, now, try to 
release the fear, and open yourself to this gift."
     Dr. Zee closed his eyes for a moment, visualizing the branch in his 
mind. Then, opening his eyes again, he looked at the branch  and mentally 
saw it move, lift.
     "That's right, let your mind touch it, feel its weight and size," 
prompted Celesta.
     He did, and watched with held breath as the branch lifted slowly and 
moved into the same plane as Celesta's.
     "Now see what else we can do with these," she smiled. "Play with the 
branch, my friend. It can't hurt you or anyone else if you rule your 
power. It's a tool for you to use--an extension of your physical self."
     "What should I do?"
     "Try something like this." Dr. Zee watched as Celesta's branch began 
to twist and bend and then spin in the air, just like the apple core had 
done. He held his branch in focus, managing to send it into a short spin. 
Then, with some prompting from Celesta, he was able to bend it into an 
arc, flipping the arc inverted, then moving his branch to Celesta's and 
twisting it into the almost circle she had made with hers.
     "Very, very good," encouraged Celesta warmly. "You see? You can 
control it! And as we go on, you'll learn fine control even better. Now, 
let that go, and let's try for something a bit more solid so you can feel 
the weight and mass differentials."
     They worked with two small, chunky rocks. Dr. Zee could, indeed feel 
the difference. He managed to spin the rock in the opposite direction to 
Celesta's and bring it to a fair height above the ground. It felt heavy; he 
hoped he could maintain control over it. But fatigue began to touch him 
and he slowly allowed it to descend.
     Celesta's arm slipped around his shoulder, her rock gently alighting 
on the ground, too, beside his.
     "I'm sorry," whispered Dr. Zee, a slight tremor coursing through him. 
"I just couldn't hold--"
     "You did perfectly fine, Dr. Zee," Celesta smoothed his face with a 
loving touch. "You should be very proud of what you accomplished both 
today and tonight. I told you that you'd feel wrung out. But know peace in 
your heart, for what you have kept bottled up for so long as finally seen 
the light. You can master it, and you will."
     "But," and Dr. Zee's head lifted slowly, his eyes searching, "how is 
it that you're not so wrung out?"
     Celesta hugged him warmly for a moment, then she helped him to his 
feet. "Remember, I have had more practice than you. I've also lifted a 
great deal more than you have, and one builds up a tolerance or mental 
muscles, I suppose, just as one who exercises builds up physical muscles." 
They began walking back to the house.
     "How long do you suppose it will take me to build up some of these 
mental muscles, Celesta?"
     "Oh, I don't know. But give it time. Now you know what you have the 
capability of doing, so just take it one step at a time from there. The 
first time is always the hardest and, I admit, we did put in a lot of 
time! By the Star of Kobol, we've been at this for four hours!" She 
snickered. "Let's not knock over any pots tonight."
     They found that Hector had left the porch light on for them with a 
note on the door which said:
     "Wasn't sure where you two had headed off to, but there still is some 
tea in the fridge if you're thirsty and some of that chocolate custard 
pie. See you both in the morning."
     "Now I understand why Captain Troy refers to himself as a 
'chocoholic'," smiled Dr. Zee as he and Celesta raided the pie. "I'm 
afraid I must admit to fast becoming one myself."
     Celesta nodded, taking a huge mouthful. "That makes two of us. This 
stuff is so good!"
     They finished the pie, had some tea, cleaned up the mess and headed 
off to bed. As Dr. Zee lay in bed staring out the window at the starry 
sky, he felt an adrenaline rush of excitement. He had conquered, he 
realized, a thing which had kept him an emotional prisoner for seven-plus 
years. He could continue to master it, he knew, and, in doing so, free 
himself to learn about himself and, perhaps, more about the people he 
lived and worked with. Yes, some of the changes would astound some people, 
perplex them--there would no doubt be a mixture of reactions. But --.
     His thoughts were interrupted by a gentle mind touch. "Turn it off 
and get some rest, now, little one," it laughed. A warmth and restfulness 
filled him, his mind began to drift, and Dr. Zee fell into a deep, potent 
sleep.

                             24. Fowl Weather
                                     

     Dr. Zee started awake into a sitting position. It only took him a 
moment to determine what it had been that had startled him.
     Rolls of ominous thunder rattled the windows; lightning streaked 
across the sky looking almost like laser fire. It was awesome and 
beautiful, he thought.
     Being, for the most part, ship-bound, he had never had the 
opportunity to just watch a thunder storm. He remembered how he had made 
it rain over the valley; he had been in a storm then, but his attention 
had been absorbed with maintaining control of his ship and making a safe, 
unobserved landing. Now, he could just absorb the majesty of the storm 
outside.
     Dr. Zee stood at the window for a few minutes watching the lightning, 
listening to and feeling the rolls of thunder. Then, glancing at his 
chronographic display, he noted that it was probably breakfast time and 
everyone else would be up. he listened. Noises could be heard below, and 
he was really feeling very hungry.
     He washed quickly and drew on an old tee-shirt Maria had given him. 
She had given him several items of clothing, noting that jeans and 
tee-shirts were unisex and no one would really care. After slipping into a 
pair of sandals and running a comb through his hair, he ran down to the 
kitchen.
     Though he was uncomfortable about being possibly in the same room as 
Wellington, he knew he had an advantage--support, even from people who did 
not truly comprehend the situation. What was it he had heard one of the 
kids say yesterday? 'Keep your shirt on,' which seemed to equate to 'don't 
worry'.
     Upon entering the kitchen, he was instantly intercepted by Celesta 
who drew him into a corner and proceeded to scan him. "I do need to follow 
up on you," she said aloud. Then in a very low voice, "How are you really 
feeling? Any headache or dizziness?"
     "No," Dr. Zee replied just as softly. "Are those things part of--"
     Celesta nodded very slightly. "It can happen. But you look to be in 
great shape."
     "I am exceedingly hungry, though."
     Celesta tried to suppress a laugh. "That's part of it, too. Eat all 
you can handle."
     She was about to turn away, then stopped. "Dr. Zee," her voice had 
dropped to almost a hiss. "Watch the rumor mill."
     Dr. Zee's eyebrows lifted. "What?"
     Celesta leaned toward him. "It might interest you to know that 
Wellington was talking in his sleep last night. Starla came to me this 
morning and whispered that she was terrified for you."
     "Oh!" was Dr. Zee's barely breathed exclamation. "Whatever in the 
name of Kobol did he say? Did any of the others--"
     "Yes. He was almost yelling from what she said, threatening to 
flatten you like a pancake and put his footprints all over your face."
     Dr. Zee's lips tightened. "That doesn't sound very good." He lowered 
his eyes and sighed. "Well, it would appear that the friction is now fact 
and out in the open."
     "Yes, I'm sorry to say," Celesta's response carried some foreboding. 
"But I get the strong impression that you may have a lot of protectors. 
Little Starla, for instance, feels she owes you for saving her life."
     Dr. Zee frowned. "I don't want to see her hurt trying to protect me." 
His voice trembled. "Or any of the others."
     "Don't you worry, my gentle friend," Celesta soothed. "I think Troy 
and Dillon are sensing things, too. They'll do their best, I'm sure, to 
keep things to a dull roar, if at all possible." She pressed him to her 
very briefly. "Now clear your head and eat something."
     "You think I should apprise them, then?"
     "Follow your heart on this one," Celesta replied. "I know you have 
already begun to feel a strong connection with Dillon."
     A curiously thoughtful frown touched Dr. Zee's face. "Celesta," he 
queried, "You don't know what a 'pancake' is, do you?"
     Celesta let her face relax into a smile. "According to Maria's 
cookbooks, pancakes are made of a type of thin batter which is poured onto 
a very hot surface. They're supposed to taste quite good with fruit, 
syrups, etc. What you're smelling now is called French toast, and it's 
quite interesting and good."
     They parted, and Dr. Zee, as he headed for the stove to get some of 
this French toast, could see the children gazing through the rain-streaked 
windows. Some of them had mournful and bored expressions.
     "The weather man said it would be like this maybe all day," Chris was 
saying in a somewhat gloomy voice.
     "I hate when it does this," was Jason's glowering response. "It's so 
boring just hanging around the house."
     "Well, just think," Moonstone was trying to be hopeful, "we can mud 
wrestle by the reservoir when it lets up."
     That comment was a big mistake. Wellington's ears pricked when he 
heard it. The most ultimately nasty thing in the world began to form in 
his head. He'd have to--um--borrow the tractor. He knew how to start it 
without the key. Yeah--he could head it for Dr. Zee and force him either 
into the mud or--and this would be even better--right into the reservoir. 
He'd make sure the rope ladder was conveniently missing. A wicked glee 
filled Wellington which he tried not to show.
     Dr. Zee had gotten three pieces of this toast stuff from Gloria and 
sat down by Troy and Dillon. He could see Troy's toast covered with some 
thin syrup and Dillon had a preserve-type stuff on his. Dr. Zee took a bit 
of each and ended up favoring the preserve which he found out was called 
strawberry.
     They ate in silence. Dr. Zee couldn't help noticing how Gloria kept 
glancing at Dillon. Clearly, she was attracted to him. Was it possible 
that Dillon felt a similar attraction? Dr. Zee's thought processes began 
to extrapolate. If something did occur between them, how easily would the 
two biochemistries interlink in offspring? The overall physical makeup of 
Galacticans and Earth people was almost identical. The real differences 
were in the blood, hormonal structure, parts of the cellular makeup, 
DNA/RNA sequencing--. It was not an impossibility, he thought, and as he 
gathered more data--.
     "Kobol--what am I doing!" he chided himself. "Celesta's right; I need 
to turn off my--or is it take off my scientist hat. There are other things 
I need to focus on right now, including the local expressions which sound 
almost like a sort of code." He had to smile. Dillon, Troy and the 
children had certainly learned the talk.
     Dr. Zee looked up to see Dillon glancing at him. He sensed uneasiness 
in both Dillon and Troy. They had probably heard Wellington's threats in 
the night. The issue would have to be addressed, somehow.
     What was interesting to Dr. Zee was that he felt more like addressing 
the issue with Dillon. He had felt Dillon connect with and accept him. 
Celesta, too, had indicated that Dillon would be trustworthy.
     Dr. Zee tried to feel out Troy. He wasn't sure what he sensed. He had 
never felt that he could get close enough with Troy to build a 
relationship of any significance. It wasn't that he hadn't wanted to; 
perhaps, he could have tried harder. But, for whatever reason, though he 
held a great respect and admiration for Troy and his accomplishments, he 
felt a personal barrier which he wanted desperately to breach, but did not 
know how.
     He decided to go with his heart and try to speak with Dillon. Since 
Dillon was close to Troy, perhaps he could give insight into how to breach 
the barrier.
     When they finished eating, Dr. Zee spoke quietly. "Might I speak with 
you for a moment, Lieutenant?"
     "Sure." Dillon rose. He could see Troy's questioning glance for which 
he had no answer. He wondered why Dr. Zee would wish to speak with him and 
not with Troy or with both of them. Possibly, it was because Dr. Zee had 
felt Dillon's acceptance of  and genuine interest in him.
     They slipped into the pantry which was uninhabited and closed the 
door. Dillon looked at Dr. Zee and waited. Dr. Zee seemed to be struggling 
for the correct words. "I heard that Wellington was--uh--saying things, 
Dillon. Is that true?"
     Dillon's eyes took in the tight-lipped face before him. He didn't 
want to pry, but felt he had to get some information from Dr. Zee.
     "Uh, yeah," Dillon exhaled heavily, slumping down onto a wooden 
crate. How honest could he be? He'd have to chance it and hope Dr. Zee 
would not take offense. "And from what he was saying, more like yelling, 
you could be in a lot of trouble."
     Dr. Zee saw Dillon's expression of helplessness mixed with--what was 
that--fear? He reached out and placed a hand on Dillon's shoulder. "I 
cannot give you a complete explanation, much as I might wish to," said Dr. 
Zee slowly. "I can only tell you that some seven or so years ago something 
happened. Wellington was injured--both ankles sprained. Not serious 
injuries. But," and it was Dr. Zee's turn to exhale heavily as he lowered 
his eyes and continued, "he had stated then as he has now; he desires 
revenge. I tried to apologize then--twice. I'm afraid he will never accept 
it."
     Dillon felt a tremor in Dr. Zee's hand. He knew that Dr. Zee had 
given him all the information he would give. For now, it was enough.
     "How can I help?"
     "I don't believe you can," replied Dr. Zee. "This has to be between 
Wellington and me. For you or anyone else to intervene could make matters 
a lot worse than they are. If you feel you need to confide in Troy, then 
do so. But also tell him that I'd rather no one get involved."
     "But, Dr. Zee!" Dillon was on his feet, hands gripping the boy's 
shoulders.
     Dr. Zee lifted his hand and spoke quietly but firmly. "Dillon, don't 
think I'm not dreading a confrontation with Wellington; in fact, I am. But 
it may come to that. One way or other, this matter must be resolved by the 
two of us."
     Dillon slowly loosened his hold on Dr. Zee's shoulders. "Seven years 
is an awful long time to hold a grudge," he said helplessly.
     "Yes, I know." Dr. Zee sounded almost as helpless. "That's why we've 
got to resolve this--whatever it takes."
     Dillon knew there wasn't much he could do that would be accepted, but 
he could offer support. "Look, if you change your mind and decide you need 
some help, let me know. Even if you don't change your mind, at least know 
that--well--I care! Really!"
     Dr. Zee's lips trembled and there was a trace of tears in his eyes. 
He could feel Dillon's support and caring right down to his core. He 
stepped toward Dillon and gave him a brief, but firm hug. "Thanks," he 
whispered, and turned to the closed door.
     Dillon had to collect himself. He realized he had indeed made an 
impact on Dr. Zee--a positive one. Dr. Zee had trusted him with a part of 
himself that was obviously difficult to discuss.
     Dillon had to ask one more thing before Dr. Zee opened the door. "Dr. 
Zee?" He hesitated. "How much can I tell Troy?"
     Dr. Zee regarded Dillon thoughtfully for a moment. Yes, he had hoped 
to possibly gain insight into Troy. He would be honest with Dillon.
     "Tell him whatever you feel he needs to know and will accept. I know 
he may have difficulty in comprehending that I might have a problem of any 
sort--" He did not know how to continue. After a moment's pause, he said, 
"I trust your instincts on this one, Dillon."
     Dillon immediately got the strong impression that Dr. Zee had never 
felt a close relationship with Troy, wanted to, and didn't know where to 
start. Dillon's heart tightened. He wanted to help, but didn't know how. 
He would need his instincts here, he thought.
     "I'll--I'll feel it out," he told Dr. Zee. "Listen, thanks. You've 
shared a lot with me and I promise to be careful with it."
     "I know you will, Dillon."
     Dr. Zee pressed Dillon's arm with one hand, opened the pantry door 
with the other, and they walked back into the kitchen.

                        25. United in Differences

     The morning was indeed wet. Maria began drafting the Galactican 
children and Chris into service at doing chores around the house, Dillon 
and Troy served as drill sergeants keeping them in line and busy. Video 
games were played between tasks and things seemed to be running smoothly.
     Hector had closeted himself in the tiny room he called his 'office' 
with a giant mug of coffee. He glared at the computer on his desk and 
began sorting through the folder in his hand. He had never developed a 
love for the computer, but it was the only method he had found for keeping 
track of things. Of course, if he had the kind of computer technology that 
existed on the Galactica, he might begin to like computers more. He 
sighed, took a large swallow from his coffee mug and began to work.
     Dr. Zee and Celesta poured over Maria's cookbooks learning about some 
of the culinary delights of this world and helped Gloria prepare some 
pastries.
     At one point, Gloria gave Dr. Zee a very long, searching look. "You 
talk different than the rest of your people," she observed.
     "How so?"
     "Your accent," Gloria replied. "You sound more like you're from 
England."
     Maria looked up from her task and saw Dr. Zee start to enter 
something into his computron. "Before you look it up," she smiled, 
"England is another country, part of the British Isles." She laughed. 
"Gloria has a point; you do sound quite British."
     Dr. Zee looked up the entry anyway and nodded slowly. "Perhaps my 
accent is due to the fact that much of my early life was spent surrounded 
by a group of our people called Pisceans. They are quite learned and use 
an older form of our universal speech." He frowned thoughtfully. "Could 
this be a disadvantage here?"
     "No, I don't think so," replied Maria. "In fact, it could be an 
advantage, particularly when you run into trouble with the local words."
     Gloria gave him a wide smile. "I think it's cool," she said. Noting 
Dr. Zee's lack of comprehension, she added, "L--neat; nice to listen to. 
All the Americans love to hear British accents."
     Dr. Zee's expression relaxed into a smile. "Then, I'm flattered." He 
could see goose bumps rising on Gloria and rapture in her eyes.
     "Do I sound different, too, Gloria?" Celesta asked mildly.
     "Yeah, sort of Jamaican. That's in the Caribbean--one of the 
islands."
     "That may be because I am Arian."
     Revelation seemed to sink into both Gloria and Maria. "So you're from 
different--uh--" Maria faltered slightly.
     "The Galactican people are composed of several different races from 
our home planets which were destroyed," Celesta explained calmly. "Dillon 
and Troy were from Caprica; so is Adama. Many of the children are from 
these different races, but have learned a more universal speech. Me--I'm 
what I think you call 'old school'--right off of Aries."
     "Cool," breathed Gloria.
     "Well, it makes sense," smiled Maria. "We have our share of different 
peoples here, so why shouldn't you? I guess I just supposed that 
Galactican was what you called yourselves or--"
     "At this point," Dr. Zee straightened to place a book back on its 
shelf, "that is what we are, united in order to survive. But it is 
important to hold to what was, also. For me, since I was not born aboard 
the Galactica and my true ancestry is unknown," his voice seemed to drop 
off for a moment, "I can only look at the present and to the future."
     Maria's face saddened as she said, "Oh how I wish we had that kind of 
uniting here on Earth. But I don't expect to see it in my lifetime. So 
much prejudice, so much hate because a person has a different skin color 
or speaks a different language. And it's passed down from generation to 
generation." Tears suddenly squirted from her eyes. "I just get so angry 
when I think about it! I'm sorry."
     Dr. Zee, remembering Maria's kind gestures towards him, felt his 
heart reach out to her. Following a sudden impulse, he quickly moved to 
her side and drew her close. He had never hugged anyone openly before. 
Yes, Adama had put an arm around him when they were alone, and he had 
hugged Celesta, but this was different. He wasn't alone, and he didn't 
care.
     Dr. Zee's hand gently wiped the flood of tears from Maria's tired 
face. "I know you're angry," he said, Gently, lifting her face to his own, 
"and no doubt have been hurt by such hatred. And as much as you would like 
to be able to change and heal the world, you know you are only one person 
among billions. But there are others out there who feel as you do."
     Maria sighed. "Yes, I know that, but--"
     "Maria, your heart is so full of love. Share that love with those 
around you and, hopefully, they will continue to expand on that. You are 
only one, but one can make a difference. I submit that it already has in 
the lives of some space-weary travelers who have found a safe haven here."
     He could see Celesta's approval through the corner of his eye, but 
most of his focus was Maria, who reached up and hugged him in return.
     Celesta approached, gently removing the jeans from Maria's lap which 
she had been mending and placed them on the table. Gloria looked at 
Celesta, her lips trembling. Celesta took Gloria in her arms and smoothed 
her hair.
     "Dr. Zee is quite right." Celesta was soft-spoken but firm. "Your 
family could have turned us away after learning the truth about us, but 
you didn't. You could have handed us over to those Air Force 
investigators, but you didn't. Instead, you opened your home and hearts 
and offered us a place to set down roots."
     Maria slowly pulled herself up, Dr. Zee helping her to her feet. "You 
are all such dear people," she smiled through her tears. "It's you who 
have helped us. If Troy and Dillon hadn't come when they did, we could 
have lost everything--our home, the farm--"
     "And it is your farm which has provided food for our people," 
responded Dr. Zee, gently. "When the Cylons destroyed our agro ships, we 
knew that our only hope for help lay in Earth's resources. Finding 
approachable people has been somewhat of a problem. When we decided to 
approach your family, we fervently hoped that the outcome would be a 
positive one for all concerned. And I truly believe it has been."
     Maria hugged Dr. Zee and smiled. "Oh, yes, I think so, too."
     "I think we all need a group hug," said Gloria.
     "What's that?" asked Celesta.
     Gloria pulled Celesta over to where Maria and Dr. Zee were standing 
and put one arm around Celesta and the other around Dr. Zee.
     "I get it," laughed Celesta. "A 'love bundler', we sometimes call 
it."
     They gathered together, holding each other not only physically, but 
in an embrace of heart-felt, harmonious love.
     "The road ahead may be difficult," thought Dr. Zee, "But this is one 
experience I shall always treasure."

                          26. Hard Knocks

     Dillon couldn't stop thinking about his conversation with Dr. Zee. He 
was deeply touched by Dr. Zee's openness and trust; he was also deeply 
concerned that Troy, who should have had plenty of opportunity to get 
close to Dr. Zee, had not. Dillon intended to keep his promise and 'feel' 
Troy out.
     Shortly before lunch, while the children were getting themselves 
washed up, Dillon drew Troy aside. "I guess you wanna know what Dr. Zee 
told me."
     Troy regarded Dillon for a moment. "I would, but only if you want to 
tell me. I get the impression you two have really hit it off, somehow."
     Dillon couldn't read Troy's expression and thoroughly wished he 
could. "Yeah, I guess you could say that." Dillon shrugged, still trying 
to read Troy's face. Finally, he said, "Well, according to Dr. Zee, 
something happened seven years ago, but I don't know what. Wellington 
hasn't forgotten it and, even though Dr. Zee tried to apologize, 
Wellington wants revenge. Dr. Zee wants everyone to stay out of it; he'd 
rather try to resolve things with Wellington himself."
     Troy leaned against the doorjamb. "This should be very interesting," 
he mused. "Did he say how he intends to resolve this thing?"
     "No, but he'll do whatever it takes," replied Dillon. He watched 
Troy's face, searching for something--anything that would tell him Troy's 
thoughts regarding Dr. Zee.
     Finally, he asked, "Troy, how do you see Dr. Zee?"
     Troy was obviously caught off guard by the question. He floundered 
for a moment. "I don't get it? What do you mean?"
     "Just what I said," replied Dillon. "How do you see Dr. Zee? What 
makes him tick?"
     "Dillon," Troy began, then sighed. "You know as well as I do that 
nobody really knows what makes him tick. Probably the only person who does 
is the commander and he's not totally sure. He told me in the waiting 
room, while you and Jamie had gone for coffee, that there were things he 
didn't know about Dr. Zee." Troy hesitated a moment. "He also said there 
were things he knew but couldn't talk about." Troy moved closer to Dillon. 
"Okay, Dillon, spit it out."
     Dillon slowly moved his eyes away from Troy. "Well," he began, 
looking back again just as slowly, "I think maybe the reason we hit it off 
was--was because I took a chance."
     "You took a chance on what?" Troy could see Dillon was trying to say 
something and fumbling for the right way to say it.
     "I began thinking and trying to imagine what it was like for him. I 
just had a feeling, I guess; figured it was probably awful lonely. I guess 
Dr. Zee knew I had questions--everyone's got questions. And he told me to 
ask them. So I did." He could see Troy's thoughtful look. "Troy, I guess 
what I'm trying to say is that the Dr. Zee we all see isn't the whole 
image." Dillon paused, taking a slow breath. "There's a lot more to him 
than his intellect and, to be quite honest, I got the feeling he's looking 
to change things for himself. I can't tell ya much more than that, except 
I think he needs a break."
     Troy's eyes widened. Dillon was sure he read more than concern. In 
fact, it was almost fear. "Dillon, did Dr. Zee give you any idea what kind 
of changes he meant?"
     "Not really," Dillon replied uncertainly. He could guess what the 
fear was. Dr. Zee was such an integral part of the command structure that 
any changes, as Dr. Zee himself had pointed out, would impact on all. 
Dillon continued, "Whatever they are, he said they will have an impact on 
everyone, and he is concerned about that."
     "Maybe I'd better talk to him." Dillon could see a mixture of 
emotions on Troy's face. They were not the ones Dr. Zee needed to deal 
with. Dillon felt strongly that Dr. Zee needed support right now, not the 
anger and defensiveness evident in Troy.
     He followed his instincts and physically blocked Troy who had started 
for the kitchen. "Troy, wait!" Dillon hissed. "Just hold on a minute! 
Think about it. Now, I don't know how much of the way we look at or up to 
Dr. Zee is his fault. I really think a lot of the blame has to fall on the 
people of the fleet, the Council and--" Dillon looked away from Troy. He 
didn't want to see Troy's expression as he added reluctantly, "And Adama."
     Dillon forced himself to look at Troy, who was quite thoroughly 
thunderstruck. "No, you hold on," Troy almost exploded. "If you want to 
blame the fleet and the Council, fine. Adama--"
     Dillon felt his heart racing. The words came out before he could stop 
them. "Adama won't make any command decisions without Dr. Zee's approval. 
Sometimes, it's almost as though he's turned command over to Dr. Zee. 
Don't you see? All people want to see is his intelligence. Name one person 
who's bothered to look for anything else!"
     Troy's lips had drawn tight. Slowly, however, the fire went out of 
his eyes; his face relaxed into a more thoughtful mode; his eyes lowered 
for a moment, then rose again to meet Dillon's.
     He and Dillon had met while training and it hadn't taken long to 
build a fast friendship. Troy knew Dillon well enough to know that he was 
not one to normally lose his cool or say things impulsively. He could see 
in Dillon's face a depth of conviction and, perhaps, a trace of guilt.
     If Troy had heard anyone else talk about his grandfather with other 
than glowing terms, that someone would probably be part of the floor right 
now. But not Dillon. What he had said had obviously been as hard a point 
to deliver as it had been to swallow. The more Troy thought about it, the 
more he had to admit that Dillon was right--on all counts.
     Adama had always been an unswerving decision-maker, tenaciously 
following his objectives and overcoming with grace, firmness and dignity 
any resistance he might meet. But when his son, Troy's father, Apollo, had 
died, a part of Adama had seemed to fade, too. Adama had encouraged Dr. 
Zee quite strongly to become involved with the command structure. Dr. Zee 
had, and, though Troy hated to face this realization, he was forced to 
admit that Adama had, indeed, become extremely dependent on Dr. Zee.
     As far as his own interactions with Dr. Zee, Troy had never felt 
comfortable. Apollo had said on numerous occasions, "Boxey, he may be 
different, but he probably needs love just as much as anyone else; maybe 
he just doesn't know how to ask for it or accept it." And Troy realized he 
hadn't known how to extend it.
     Troy let out a long breath. Dillon had challenged him to name one 
person who had, perhaps, dared to accept Dr. Zee as more than intellect. 
"I can name one person," said Troy somberly. "Lieutenant Dillon, Blue 
Squadron." Troy slowly put an arm around Dillon's shoulder. "You packed 
quite a punch, you know, with what you said."
     "Yeah, I know, and believe me, I didn't want to have to say it." 
Dillon allowed himself a shaky smile. "For a minute, there, I thought I 
was going to become a wall decoration."
     "Almost," Troy replied, just as shakily. "I hate to admit it, but 
you're right--all of it. I guess reality is starting to close in. I hate 
to think of what's going to happen to the command structure if Dr. Zee--" 
Troy exhaled. "Maybe I have a lot to learn about him."
     "He is a lot looser here than on the Galactica," Dillon offered. 
"And, maybe, he's as unsure about you as you are about him."
     "Yeah." Troy slowly pulled himself together. "Okay, so Dr. Zee needs 
a break, and Wellington wants to kill him, if we can take anything he was 
saying last night seriously."
     "I think we'd better take it seriously," Dillon responded 
emphatically. "But, what can we do?"
     "Well," Troy responded thoughtfully, "we can keep alert and stand by 
in case he changes his mind about not wanting intervention."
     They could hear some of the kids arguing about something. "I'll go 
keep the beasts in line," muttered Dillon.
     "All right, you do that and I'll finish a couple things here. Meet ya 
in the kitchen."
     Troy stood for a moment after Dillon had gone. He would talk to Dr. 
Zee, he thought, and try to be as open as possible. He had wished 
fervently, while in the waiting room with Adama, that he had been more of 
a brother to the youth. Well, here he had an opportunity to, if not be a 
brother, at least try to understand him.
     Troy was suddenly jarred by a very sobering thought. If Dr. Zee had 
died in surgery, drastic changes would need to take place in an effort to 
bring the command structure back to what it had once been. Perhaps, 
realizing this, Dr. Zee had come to the conclusion that he had to, in a 
manner of speaking, wean the fleet, the Council, and Adama. Perhaps he did 
need a break--time to recharge and, possibly, space to reorder his life.
     Troy felt beads of sweat on his forehead. "Whe-ew," he breathed to 
himself. "He isn't going to get a lot of support, I don't think. Dillon's 
right; whatever happens, it's not gonna be very pretty."

                    27. Shattered Illusions, New Hopes

     Hector stalked into the kitchen during lunch and refilled his coffee 
mug. "I hate computers," he growled.
     The children snickered. They were used to this. Every month since 
they had come there, Hector would closet himself with his computer and do 
whatever it was he did; every month he would stalk forth from his office 
growling that he hated computers. It had become a sort of ritual and joke.
     Upon hearing the snickering, Hector looked around at the group and 
demanded, "Okay, which one of you hackers wants to check things over and 
make sure I did it right?"
     That was part of the ritual, too, and Jason jumped up and declared 
himself this month's hacker. Most of them had advanced computer skills and 
could easily adapt to Hector's 'primitive' computer.
     By 2:00 the rain had let up and a pale sun was breaking through the 
overcast. Sounds of rejoicing could be heard as the kids begged to head 
out and take advantage of the mud. So Troy and Dillon prepared to 
accompany the young wrestlers.
     Dr. Zee had just reached the top of the stairs with a bulky package 
when he saw Troy and Dillon coming toward him dressed in cutoffs and 
raggedy shirts. Dillon grinned at him. "We've gotta join the mud wrestling 
mob. Wanna come?"
     Troy blinked. Was Dillon serious? Dr. Zee would probably decline 
politely or--.
     "Well--" He surveyed the two men. "I'm afraid I'm at a bit of a 
disadvantage as I am not well equipped clothing-wise. However, if I can 
find something that doesn't care what happens to it, I'll meet 
you--where?"
     Troy had a difficult time keeping his eyeballs in his head. He had 
not expected this. Dillon was right; he would have to re-evaluate his 
thinking concerning Dr. Zee.
     Dr. Zee had noticed Troy's expression. He still wasn't sure what he 
sensed about Troy, but, perhaps, Dillon had spoken to him and he might be 
less distant.
     "Down at the reservoir," Dillon was saying. "And I might be able to 
solve your 'disadvantage' problem."
     "Fine," Dr. Zee signaled them to wait a moment and placed the package 
just inside the master bedroom. Then, turning back to them, he asked, 
"Will I need any other equipment?"
     "Stamina," Troy said with a slight laugh. "And I would advise not 
bringing your computron."
     "Yeah, it might end up buried like mine did," Dillon added. "I wasn't 
thinking and it slipped off. Didn't notice it for a couple hours."
     Troy noticed a slow smile and look of revelation tracing itself 
across Dr. Zee's face. He looked directly at Troy. "Was that why you 
contacted me to ask for a remote comprehensive on Dillon's computron? So 
you could trace the signal and find it?"
     Troy felt his face turn red in spite of himself. "Yeah," he replied a 
bit sheepishly.
     Dr. Zee's smile broadened. "How deep did it go?"
     Dillon measured with his hands. "Something like six inches down.  Not 
real deep."
     "Uhhuh," said Dr. Zee, nodding. "Well, at least we have reliable data 
to substantiate that the remote comprehensive really works and the 
computrons are, indeed, mud-proof."
     Troy saw that Dr. Zee was trying not to laugh and failing as he 
unstrapped the computron from his wrist.
     Troy recalled that he had noticed the computron's absence yesterday. 
What he had seen  had struck him as unusual--Dr. Zee and Celesta in the 
kitchen scrubbing pots.
     Troy thought a moment. "Dillon, didn't Jamie have some jeans she said 
were too tight in the barn?"
     Dillon nodded. "If ya mean the ones with the patches holding them 
together, those were the ones I was thinking about, and the tee-shirt she 
had to use to clean up the bleach that time. Not pretty, but fine for the 
purpose."
     Troy saw his opportunity. "Dillon, you go on ahead." Then, to Dr. 
Zee, "Stuff's in the barn; you can change there."
     Dillon grinned and disappeared down the stairs. "Let me get rid of 
this," said Dr. Zee, pointing to the computron.
     As they walked to the barn, Troy said, tentatively, "I talked to 
Dillon, earlier or, more like, Dillon talked to me." he saw Dr. Zee nod 
and allowed himself to continue. "He said you answered a lot of questions 
for him. I guess I have a bunch, too."
     Dr. Zee stopped walking and turned to face Troy. He had never wanted 
the barrier that existed between them. Even Apollo had been less distant 
than Troy. Dr. Zee felt there might be a crack in that barrier now. 
Perhaps the only way through would be to be as totally straight and open 
with Troy as possible. He desperately wished he had had time to confer 
with Celesta, for he trusted her instincts more than his own at this 
point.
     "I know you have never felt able to ask me anything personal. Quite 
honestly, I had hoped you would. I never intended to create barriers 
between myself and others, but there are some things that happened which I 
cannot share with you now. Only, suffice it to say they changed my life 
and my ability to allow myself to be open. However, I need to change this, 
Troy, for my good as well as that of the Galactican fleet."
     Dr. Zee took a long tremulous breath. His eyes never wavered from 
Troy's face, but Troy saw an expression of pain in those intense eyes more 
deep than the pain he had seen from the boy's physical injuries. Dr. Zee 
was indeed not indestructible. Troy hoped that maybe some day he would 
know what it was that had brought that deep pain. He realized that Dr. Zee 
was opening to him a part of himself that probably had only been seen by 
Adama and, possibly, Dillon. He was trying to bridge the gap that had 
existed between them.
     Troy had that feeling of discomfort again, but realized it was now 
because he had never allowed himself to envision Dr. Zee as anything less 
than perfect--perfectly intelligent, perfectly in control with perfect 
self-discipline. He swallowed hard as all of these perceptions suddenly 
began to crumble around him as he looked into Dr. Zee's eyes.
     Dr. Zee was aware of Troy's discomfort, but felt he had to pursue his 
course. If any changes were to be made, he needed at least a partial 
understanding from Troy. He hoped with all his being that he could get 
Troy to understand him. This would be hard, he thought, realizing he was 
feeling his nerves on edge.
     He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and continued with 
difficulty. "I told Dillon that I felt I needed to make some changes in my 
life. "I need time for myself and have, up till now, not allowed myself to 
view this as important. But it is."
     Troy was very thoughtful. "Why didn't you think it was important?"
     Dr. Zee shrugged, but Troy could see his lips tremble as he 
responded, "What's that expression about being all things to all people? I 
suppose you could say that was my code. With all that was happening, our 
search for Earth and attempts to evaluate the culture, trying to keep our 
weaponry at least one step ahead of the Cylons, applying myself to 
advancing our medical technology so as to save more lives than we lost--" 
His hands had locked together in front of him. "Don't you see, Troy?" he 
almost cried, "I had the knowledge and other capabilities that were needed 
to do these things. Perhaps, that was my purpose in life--to help the 
fleet reach their destination. I don't know, really. But for me to take 
time for myself, at least so I thought, would take me away from something 
that could be beneficial to all. Perhaps it's even more basic than that 
and not so altruistic."
     He looked away from Troy out over the farm and up toward the pale 
sky. As Troy watched him, he saw tears which Dr. Zee was struggling not to 
release. "Perhaps," said Dr. Zee very softly, "I felt so different and 
apart that I had to prove my worth. Hopefully, I have done that. But I 
believe that, inadvertently, I have also destroyed a chain of command in a 
very short time which had existed for years."
     Troy felt his heart in his throat. He couldn't believe what he was 
hearing and seeing. Yet, he had to believe it. He had never considered the 
fact that Dr.. Zee had been under any major stress or pressure. What he 
was seeing before him now was a young man who had given all that he was 
and taken, perhaps without realizing, the entire burden of the fleet. Now, 
Dr. Zee was trying to find a way to shift things back to where they 
belonged.
     Troy realized he had reached out and placed a hand on Dr. Zee's 
shoulder. Dr. Zee turn to him and said, "They're too dependent on my 
abilities--the Council, fleet commanders and, I'm sorry, Adama. I never 
wanted this to happen. I know that if I hadn't survived my injuries, there 
would be utter turmoil as they tried to reorganize. Yes, I need time for 
myself, and they need to take back their independence." Dr. Zee lowered 
his eyes and added softly, "And I'll probably meet an awful lot of 
resistance."
     Troy's mind reeled as he thought of his conversation with Dillon and 
of what Dr. Zee was saying now. Troy knew there would indeed be 
resistance.
     The feeling of discomfort Troy had been experiencing suddenly fell 
apart, giving way to a feeling of wanting to somehow protect Dr. Zee. 
Protect him from what? Troy wasn't sure. He definitely felt he had gained 
new understanding and insight into what he had perceived to be an 
incomprehensible Dr. Zee.
     The barrier was broken, now.  His arm had tightened around Dr. Zee's 
shoulders. "Dillon's right," Troy said gently. "You do need a break. 
Maybe--" he hesitated a moment. "Maybe, you should stay on Earth longer 
than just a couple more days. I don't think being on the Galactica is 
going to help you figure out how to make those changes."
     Dr. Zee slowly looked up at Troy. "The truly hardest part for me will 
be facing the reactions of the Council and Adama. As well as I think I 
know him, there are times when I just feel so--"
     Troy nodded. "Yeah, I know. You think he's going to get upset, and he 
is totally unphased and vise verse."
     Dr. Zee realized he had rested his face against Troy. "I just don't 
know how I can keep things from blowing apart!" Dr. Zee's frustration 
reached Troy loud and clear.
     Troy took a long breath, tightened his hold gently on Dr. Zee and 
continued toward the barn. "You know, It's funny; it's scary, too. I could 
see the changes happening and didn't think anything of it. All I knew was 
that you were now part of the Council and command structure. I guess it 
took Dillon's honesty to beat me over the head with things I hadn't wanted 
to see." A sober expression crossed Troy's face. "In a way, you've been in 
command of the fleet; I couldn't really see that before."
     "More than just 'in a way'," replied Dr. Zee sadly. "Troy, it's 
reached a point where nothing--and I mean even basic decisions are handled 
without me. I have tried to swing things around gently, but have been 
unsuccessful."
     "Well," said Troy, opening the barn door and drawing Dr. Zee inside, 
"maybe, we should sit down--you, me and Dillon, and try to hash it out. 
There's got to be a way, but don't ask me what."
     Dr. Zee knew as he looked at Troy that his risk had been worth the 
effort. Troy had responded to his honesty and given more than just 
understanding. Dr. Zee knew that perceptions had been shattered, but from 
the shatters was emerging an alliance.
     "Troy, for reasons which I cannot explain to you now, I would request 
Celesta be included in our--um--hashing out."
     "Fine," said Troy. "I have the feeling you'll need all the help you 
can get." He vaulted into the loft. "Come on up!" he called.
     Dr. Zee made the jump and allowed himself a smile. "So, is this what 
you call home."
     Troy laughed. "The whole barn is our home. Not exactly military 
specs." He handed Dr. Zee the clothing. "I am glad you were able to hit it 
off with Dillon," he added.
     Dr. Zee smiled, taking the clothing and stuffing himself into it. "I 
am, too. But--well, I guess I'm even more glad I could finally talk to 
you."
     Troy was keenly aware of something rising within him. It was that 
feeling he had thought would never be possible--the feeling of being a 
brother to Dr. Zee.
     Dr. Zee straightened the blotchy shirt and looked at Troy. Troy came 
to him and hugged him. "We've got a lot of talking to do," said Troy, 
gripping him tight.

                       28. The Best Laid Plans ...

     Wellington had stayed behind while the other children, including 
Chris, had dashed for the reservoir. He needed to figure a way to get Dr. 
Zee to go down there, too. But that wouldn't be easy. He really did not 
want to talk to Dr. Zee. Maybe, he could get another one of the kids 
to--nah, that wouldn't work, either.
     He noticed Dr. Zee and Troy leaving the house and heading for the 
barn. He watched them; they seemed to be talking for a while, then 
disappeared into the barn.
     "Wellington," Hector poked Wellington in the ribs. "You okay?"
     "Yeah, I was just thinking," smiled Wellington. He looked across 
toward the barn. "That grass is sure growing, Mr. A. Looks like it's going 
to need cutting, soon.
     "Yes, and I remember the last time you took that tractor and cut it." 
Hector was trying to be grim, but had to laugh, too. "Mrs. A. had you 
replanting her whole flower garden."
     Wellington groaned inwardly. He had thrown the tractor into reverse 
instead of forward with the throttle open, creating a path of devastation 
through Maria's garden. He remembered she hadn't said a word upon finding 
out, but, the next morning after breakfast, she had handed him a bunch of 
seeds and cuttings and sent him forth to repair the damage. It had taken a 
good two days to complete all the things she wanted him to do, including 
spreading compost over the whole garden.
     But if he could get Hector to let him take the tractor now--. 
"Please, Mr. A.; I'll be careful and I promise I'll stay away--far away 
from Mrs. A.'s garden."
     "Well," Hector scratched his head. "If you promise to stay away from 
the flowers, and if you promise to be real careful, especially now because 
it's been raining so hard and all, I'll let you cut the field only as far 
as there." he pointed to some trees about fifty yards away from the 
reservoir.
     Wellington could barely contain himself. He wouldn't have to theft 
the tractor after all; it was almost in his hands. "I promise," he stated 
solemnly.
     Hector handed him the key and repeated his warnings as Wellington 
darted from the house.
     When Wellington reached the garage which housed the tractor, his 
heart leaped. Dr. Zee and Troy had left the barn and were heading for the 
reservoir. "Yes! Yes!" Everything was miraculously falling into place. It 
shouldn't be too hard to shake up Dr. Zee without hurting anyone else. 
He'd make a run at Dr. Zee and veer away at the last second. It would be 
enough to send him running, hopefully, right into the reservoir.
     Wellington started the tractor and took off. He would cut some grass, 
he thought. He didn't want to be totally dishonest with Hector. Besides, 
they would probably be there for a little while.
     Wellington actually whistled as he made his rounds.
     Meanwhile, Dr. Zee and Troy had reached the reservoir. They could see 
that the children had wasted no time in becoming thoroughly mud-covered. 
Dillon was standing a few feet back from the mob, hands on hips refereeing 
and being pelted with mud blobs.
     Troy looked at Dr. Zee. "You really wanna get into this?"
     Dr. Zee was counting heads and noticed Wellington's was not among 
them. That made things a little easier. "It can't be a whole lot worse 
than a barrel of tortilla mix."
     Troy laughed. They moved closer and Troy called out to Dillon.
     Dillon turned and grinned. He observed Dr. Zee looking him up and 
down. "Hey, does this remind you of something?" he asked.
     Dr. Zee gave Dillon a somewhat mischievous smile. "Like yesterday?"
     The three of them stood together watching the group. Chris was trying 
to line up for an assault on one of the Galactican kids. He slipped and 
his handful of mud hit Dr. Zee, splattering down his front.
     "Well, that's it," laughed Troy. "You've been properly christened."
     Chris looked terribly embarrassed and apologetic. "Sorry," he 
stammered.
     Dr. Zee looked at the boy and moved toward him with a smile. As he 
was about to ask Chris to teach him the basics, Moonstone tackled Chris 
and dumped handfuls of mud down his shirt.
     "No fair!" yelled Chris, wriggling out from Moonstone's clutches.
     "Of course not," was Moonstones gleeful reply.
     Dr. Zee decided he would make a move. Gathering a large mud ball, he 
slipped up behind Moonstone and plastered it atop his head.
     Moonstone whirled to identify his attacker, yelling, "Okay, who did 
that?"
     As he turned he found himself thrust back and pinned effortlessly by 
Dr. Zee. Moonstone stared up at Dr. Zee, stunned into immobility.
     "Surely, you can do better than that, Moonstone, or are you just 
trying to play dead?"
     Moonstone blinked, then started grinning. He was being challenged by 
Dr. Zee, of all people. "You think you can pin me, huh?" and Moonstone 
threw himself into a roll, taking Dr. Zee down into the mud.
     Though Dr. Zee had never trained in contact sports, he was able to 
come up with a few slick moves which freed him from Moonstone's grasp.
     The children had all stopped to watch in amazement, along with Dillon 
and Troy. "Dr. Zee's in deep trouble," whispered Jason. "Moonstone's 
merciless."
     "Maybe we should go help him out," Starla whispered back. "After all, 
he's never done this before--at least, I guess he hasn't."
     But at that point Dr. Zee had broken free. A loud cheer rang out from 
the kids as Dr. Zee jumped to his feet trying to clear mud from his eyes. 
He had to smile as he heard the chant, first a couple of them led by 
Starla, then the rest picking it up. "Go! Zee! Go!"
     "Stamina," he thought. "Troy wasn't joking." He waved at the cheering 
mob and reached to help Moonstone up.
     "You're good," breathed Moonstone.
     "No, I need work," replied Dr. Zee.
     "What's that?" Starla lifted her head. They all listened.
     "It's the tractor, silly," replied Lancer. "Mr. A.'s probably cutting 
the grass."
     Troy frowned. "He's going awful fast. I'm gonna take a look."
     He had barely finished speaking when the tractor came into view, 
moving at a good clip down the hill towards them.
     "Uh-oh," breathed Dillon. "Troy, do you see what I see?"
     Troy could see immediate danger. Wellington was moving at full speed 
towards them. "Trouble," he snapped. "Kids, get back!"
     The kids, seeing the speed of the tractor, had started to panic. Dr. 
Zee's face went white when he saw who was driving it.
     "Oh, by the lords of Kobol! He really is trying to kill me!" he 
gasped, moving back quickly out of Wellington's path.
     Wellington saw him move and moved with him. Starla screamed. Dr. 
Zee's heart was now pumping pure adrenaline rather than blood. He saw 
Starla skid and fall directly in Wellington's path.
     Troy and Dillon saw Dr. Zee turn into a blur as he streaked towards 
Starla, picked her up and vaulted to the first branch of a nearby tree. 
Starla could feel the rapid pounding of his heart as he clasped her to 
him.
     Wellington cursed under his breath. There was no way he could get to 
Dr. Zee now. One thing he would get was--trouble! He tried to swerve to 
keep from hitting the reservoir wall, but the mud was making the tractor 
difficult, almost impossible to control.
     Suddenly, he thought he heard a pop. Too late, he saw a stone, 
churned up by the mud, gouge into the right rear sidewall. The tractor was 
no longer controllable. It skidded and slithered through the mud sideways 
and hit the reservoir wall, tipping over and plunging into the depths.
     Sounds of screams and shrieks were everywhere. Starla saw the look of 
open-mouthed shock on Dr. Zee's face.
     He tried to recover himself and, keeping a firm hold on Starla, 
dropped from the branch. "Go with the others," he breathed. "I've got to 
help Troy and Dillon."
     "But he was trying to--" Starla couldn't finish.
     Dr. Zee gave her a quick hug. "Yes, I know, Starla. Whether I like it 
or not, I am a physician as well as a lot of other things. Now, go 
quickly. I'll be all right and so, hopefully, will Wellington."

                              29. Emergency!

     "Mama! Daddy!"
     Maria turned from the sink at the sound of her son's hysterical 
shriek. He tore open the screen door and streaked across the kitchen, 
throwing his mud-covered body into her arms.
     "Mama! They need Miss Celesta!" Chris could hardly talk; his face was 
ashen and his teeth were chattering.
     Hector had dashed into the kitchen from the living room to see what 
all the ruckus was about.
     "Honey, what on Earth happened?" asked Maria, grabbing a dish towel 
to wipe mud and tears from his face.
     "Down at the reservoir," Chris panted. "Wellington's hurt."
     "Oh, Lord, what's that boy gone and done now," groaned Hector.
     "It's bad, Daddy, real bad." Chris's eyes filled with tears again. 
"Wellington was driving the tractor. He kept heading for us--mostly for 
Dr. Zee."
     "Dr. Zee?" gasped Maria incredulously.
     "Yeah, Mama. He lost control and blew out a tire and went into the 
reservoir."
     "Oh, my God!" Hector ran for the stairs. "Celesta!" he shouted at the 
top of his lungs. "Hurry down! Wellington's been hurt and we don't know 
how bad!"
     Celesta came down the flight of stairs in almost a single jump 
carrying a bag in her left hand and trying to strap her computron on with 
her right. "What's happened?"
     "Chris says that Wellington's had an accident with my tractor and it 
went into the reservoir," replied Hector shakily.
     Celesta's face darkened. "That boy," she hissed through clenched 
teeth. "Come on! Let's go!"
     "He told us that Wellington was going after them, but mostly after 
Dr. Zee," said Hector.
     Celesta stopped dead in her tracks for a moment. They were in the 
kitchen and Maria was trying to comfort Chris.
     Celesta came over to them, gently laid a hand on Chris's cheek and 
asked, "Chris, was Dr. Zee hurt?"
     "No," sobbed Chris. "Starla almost got hurt, but Dr. Zee grabbed her 
and jumped into a tree. That's when Wellington lost control and--" He 
looked tearfully at Celesta. "Is Wellington gonna die?"
     "No, my dear, no one is going to die," Celesta pronounced firmly. 
Then, turning back to Hector, the two of them dashed for the reservoir.
     Chris looked up at his mother. "Maybe God is punishing Wellington for 
being so mean."
     "What makes you think that, sweetheart?" she asked gently.
     "Well, Wellington's been giving Dr. Zee horrible, nasty looks ever 
since he got here. Some of the other kids were whispering about Wellington 
yelling things in his sleep--things like flattening and choking Dr. Zee. 
Mama, what could he have done that was so bad to Wellington? I mean, Dr. 
Zee's a nice kid."
     "Yes, he is," sighed Maria. "Maybe Wellington is jealous because Dr. 
Zee is especially smart and can do things Wellington can't. I don't know. 
Come on, honey. Go get yourself cleaned up and I'll make you some hot 
chocolate if you want.
     She hugged Chris tightly and kissed his tear-sodden cheek. 
"Everything's going to be all right. You've got to believe that. Just give 
it to God, now. Okay?"
     "Okay, Mama." Chris's voice was hardly above a whisper.
     "Okay, now go; get that little body of yours cleaned up."
     Troy plunged into the reservoir to find Wellington. Dillon managed to 
gather the rest of the children together. Dr. Zee stood watching Troy. He 
had seen Chris run for the house and knew Celesta would probably be down 
shortly with the medical equipment.
     "Chris has gone to get Celesta," he told Dillon.
     Dillon looked at Dr. Zee's face which was almost completely devoid of 
color. "Maybe you should come back to the house with us."
     Dr. Zee shook his head. "No, I can't. I--my skills may be required."
     "I need some hands over here!" Troy's voice was hoarse with effort 
and emotion.
     Dr. Zee motioned Dillon toward the children. "You can help them 
better than I, Dillon. They need you now."
     Before Dillon could respond, Dr. Zee sprinted for the reservoir to 
help Troy with Wellington.
     Wellington's shirt was caught on a spring from the seat. Dr. Zee had 
jumped in to hold Wellington while Troy, using a pocket knife he had 
bought, cut the shirt free. Dr. Zee could see blood flowing from a wound 
on Wellington's head. He felt Wellington's shoulders, arms, everywhere he 
could reach.
     "How bad you think?" gasped Troy.
     "Bad enough," said Dr. Zee as he readjusted Wellington's position. 
"He's got a head wound, probably a moderate concussion. At a guess, I'd 
say his left shoulder is dislocated, he may have a cracked collar bone, 
and probably a lot of bruised muscles and ribs."
     They hoisted him up the ladder as carefully as they could. Wellington 
was definitely unconscious, breathing shallowly. Dr. Zee knew that the boy 
had taken on water as he placed his ear to Wellington's chest. Carefully, 
he Rolled Wellington onto his side, stripped off his own shirt and applied 
hard pressure to the bleeding head wound.
     Celesta and Hector ran toward them. Celesta dropped to her knees in 
the mud beside Wellington and Dr. Zee. She could feel the myriad of 
emotions and thoughts in Dr. Zee's mind.
     "He's got a bad head wound, Celesta, dislocated left shoulder and 
he's taken in water. Those are the worst things." Though Dr. Zee was 
striving for a professional tone, Celesta knew that his insides were 
tearing themselves apart.
     "Step back, my friend," she said gently. "I'll handle this. You need 
to save your strength; you may need it later."
     "But--"
     "No arguments!" she was gentle but firm. Her mind touched his 
soothingly. "I know you want to talk to me about something," it said, "and 
I promise we will. But we may be called upon, much as you or I may not 
like to think about it, to use our gifts to haul up that tractor."
     Dr. Zee nodded slowly. Celesta was right; he didn't like to think 
about that yet. He felt he wasn't any way near ready.
     Wellington moaned. His eyes opened and he stared up into Dr. Zee's 
green eyes. He tried to move his head. Of all the faces he had to look 
into and it had to be--.
     "Wellington," Dr. Zee spoke in a calm yet hard voice. "I know I'm the 
last person in the universe you wish to see, but if you try to move you're 
going to feel it."
     Wellington could feel his head throbbing; he could feel Dr. Zee's 
hand holding something firmly against it. Pain ran through his shoulder 
and his whole body felt sore.
     "The water's not too bad," said Celesta to Dr. Zee, "but you're right 
about that shoulder. I'm not a fully qualified surgeon; I can only assist; 
and it looks like he'll be needing a muscle knit and retention."
     Dr. Zee's lips tightened. He closed his eyes and carefully focused 
his thoughts at Celesta. They came through loud and clear. "Celesta, I 
can't step back. I am qualified, we do have some equipment, besides which, 
the G-forces in a viper flight to the Galactica could make things worse 
for him."
     He saw a slight nod and felt her acknowledgment. "You're also a 
fairly strong telepath--at least to me."
     Celesta realized she was the one who couldn't argue with Dr. Zee, 
here. He was right about the fact that he was qualified to perform the 
needed procedures. He was also right about the risk of taking Wellington 
back to the Galactica by viper.
     As she looked at Dr. Zee, she felt that something must have 
happened--something that had strengthened him emotionally. He would be 
able to handle this, she thought.

                      30. The Confrontation

     The only place in the house affording the best lighting and firmest 
operating surface was the kitchen and it's table. Dr. Zee and Celesta 
cleaned up as quickly as they could, scrubbing at the kitchen sink and 
using a small sterile field generator. The bulk of the surgical equipment 
had been moved back to the Galactica, but Celesta had retained enough 
equipment and supplies for emergency use.
     Dillon and Troy were cleaning Wellington up as best they could. He 
was in a lot of pain, mostly from his shoulder. The idea of Dr. Zee doing 
surgery on him caused a lot of mental pain, too.
     Wellington was struggling with anger that his plans had gone from so 
miraculously right to so devastatingly wrong. He knew he was also going to 
have to answer for the wreck of the tractor. Bitterly, he began to realize 
there might probably be no way he could get even with Dr. Zee without 
causing even more havoc. He railed inwardly about having to possibly talk 
to Dr. Zee and try to resolve things that way. Wellington had messed up 
and he knew it. Picking up the pieces would not be easy.
     Dillon and Troy had said nothing to Wellington at that point; they 
would wait until he was at least recovering. Right now, they both knew 
their primary responsibility was calming the rest of the children and 
getting things back to normal. They would go out later to see if they 
could get the tractor out of the water.
     As Dr. Zee did a comprehensive scan on Wellington, he could feel 
Wellington's anger and bitterness. There had to be resolution, somehow, he 
thought. If he could just get Wellington to listen!
     He watched Celesta as she completed the dermal grafting on the head 
wound. "Celesta," he said quietly, "when you've completed that, could you 
step out for a moment?"
     Celesta glanced quickly at Dr. Zee. His face was impassive, but his 
thoughts told her that he wanted to try one more time to talk with 
Wellington. She was concerned. She, too, could sense the anger and 
bitterness. She also knew that, for Dr. Zee to heal his own emotional 
wounds, he'd have to take the good and bad, learning how to forge ahead. 
Celesta wanted to be his guide and, to some extent, a protector, teaching 
Dr. Zee about himself and his gifts, but had to find the line between 
protection and over-protection. She knew he was vulnerable to emotional 
attack; he had suppressed emotions for so long and was only now really 
allowing them to be a part of his life.
     Her mind gently touched his. "Do what you feel you need to do, dear 
one; I will be there for you."
     Dr. Zee gave her a quick, acknowledging smile. She understood. He 
watched her complete the bonding.
     "Okay, that's done," she said. "I'll be right outside; give a call 
when you're ready to start with the shoulder."
     Alone with Wellington, Dr. Zee felt his heart tremble within him. Was 
he making a mistake? Probably. But if he didn't try, he'd never know. He 
knew that, somehow, he would have to tell Wellington the whole truth and 
swear him to secrecy. He couldn't do that now, he thought; it would be too 
much, possibly for both of them.
     Wellington glared at Dr. Zee. "So, how bad's the shoulder?" he asked 
bitterly.
     Dr. Zee pulled up a chair and sat down beside Wellington who was 
lying on his right side on the kitchen table, his left shoulder braced to 
keep it aligned. "It could have been worse," sighed Dr. Zee, "but it's not 
pretty. You have almost total separation, Wellington." Dr. Zee looked hard 
into Wellington's face. "Look, I know you can read scans, so I won't spare 
you." he shifted the scanner so Wellington could see the screen. "As you 
can see, it's an injury of much more significance than those two sprained 
ankles. Fortunately, I do have some equipment to work with."
     Wellington gazed at the scan. Dr. Zee was right; it wasn't pretty. 
The collar bone was intact, but bruised badly and slightly chipped. The 
shoulder was totally dislocated with a lot of separation, torn ligaments 
and muscles. The bones were not broken, however.
     Dr. Zee continued just as quietly, "Wellington, if those bones had 
been broken you would be in serious trouble as the bulk of the equipment 
used in my surgery--major bone knitter, high-power sterile field, 
etc.--were sent back to the Galactica. You would have had to resort to the 
present-day methods here--casting, splinting, slings and, perhaps, six 
weeks or more recovery."
     Wellington glared. "Captain Troy could take me back there and get me 
fixed up!"
     "In a viper? With a moderate concussion and possible loss of blood?" 
Dr. Zee shook his head.
     Wellington clamped his mouth shut. Whether he liked to admit it or 
not, Dr. Zee had made his point. Wellington was lucky--extremely lucky. 
Taking him to an emergency room on Earth would make for even more 
problems. Taking him back to the Galactica was a high-risk proposition.
     He was lucky to be alive; he was lucky that there had been surgical 
equipment of any sort available to heal his wounds; and, hard as it was to 
accept, he was lucky to have the most qualified physician working on him.
     Dr. Zee's thoughtful eyes searched Wellington. He let out a long 
breath. "You really hate me that much, Wellington? Enough to want to kill 
me?"
     Wellington held Dr. Zee's gaze. "What are you?" he finally asked, his 
tone hard. "Nobody can be so smart and so good at everything, for 
starters. And no one can do whatever it was you did to me! Did you enjoy 
seeing me up there on that wall? Watching me fall? Huh? And one more 
thing; you made me out to be a liar--at least my father thinks I am. You 
think he believed me when I told him how I was suddenly lifted off the 
floor with no one touching me? No way! And you sat there and said 
nothing!"
     Wellington's rage, humiliation and frustration boiled over. Even when 
the incident had occurred, he had not allowed himself to shed a tear. He 
had not wanted to look like a weak frimp. Now, the tears cut loose from 
his eyes, bubbling up and out despite his efforts to quell them.
     "Hate you?" he sobbed. "You bet I do! You weren't even born in the 
fleet, and you've taken the whole thing over! So, tell me, O Great and 
Noble Dr. Zee, tell me one thing you can't do better than anyone in the 
fleet! I bet you can't!"
     Dr. Zee had lowered his eyes. He had not realized the depth of 
Wellington's resentment. He couldn't help but wonder how many others felt 
the same way. Obviously, Xaviar had resented him, too, enough to 
jeopardize Earth; enough to turn outlaw.
     Wellington had finally told Dr. Zee how he felt and why he felt it. 
Dr. Zee could now feel Wellington's eyes on him demanding an answer.
     Slowly, he turned his eyes back to Wellington. His lips trembled as 
he strove to give Wellington an answer that he hoped would be 
understandable. "All right, you want to know one thing I cannot do better 
than anyone else in the fleet. I can't truly call myself a Galactican; I 
can't find a way to truly feel that I am a part of the fleet. Sometimes, 
it seems more like I am apart from them. I did not choose to be what I am, 
Wellington, and have had a great deal of difficulty accepting what I am. I 
have no information as to where I really come from, where I can place my 
home world, it's culture, knowledge and all that makes a person truly 
whole. I have accepted the Galactica and the fleet and it's people as my 
people, though they are not, really, and have tried with all that I have 
to help them as my knowledge and skills would allow. But I shall always 
feel apart, separate."
     Dr. Zee paused, watching Wellington's face. Wellington was listening, 
he felt. The anger and hatred had melted into more of a defensive 
thoughtfulness.
     Dr. Zee slowly continued, locking and unlocking his hands in his lap, 
struggling against his own tears. "And if you can truly believe I might 
have enjoyed the sight of you upon that wall and falling from it, then you 
really must think I'm some sort of monster. Enjoy, no.."
     Dr. Zee saw no change in Wellington's face. His own anger that all of 
this had gotten so terribly out of hand suddenly rose and exploded. He 
jumped up and his hand slammed down on a countertop beside him. His face 
turned red and his eyes filled. "Frack! Wellington! I panicked! I was, 
quite possibly, more frightened than you can imagine by what happened. By 
the Lords of Kobol, Wellington, I had never experienced anything like that 
before! And if you really want to know why I said nothing to your father, 
it's because I couldn't. I had no answers, rational or irrational, and was 
trying my hardest to pull out of a state of emotional shock!"
     Wellington stared at Dr. Zee. His quest had been to seem him lose it, 
get angry. Now, he saw all of it--anger, hurt, tears and an obvious 
frustration as he tried to explain something that seemed to be truly 
unexplainable.
     A chill ran through Wellington. He was, for the first time in his 
life, possibly, really hearing and seeing Dr. Zee. He recalled how Dr. Zee 
had tried to talk to him and befriend him. Dr. Zee had told Wellington on 
several occasions how he admired Wellington's ability to fit in just about 
anywhere. Wellington had not realized then what Dr. Zee had been trying to 
say. Now, he was seeing with different eyes and hearing with different 
ears, feeling his stomach tighten and his heart blocking his throat..
     "And, furthermore," continued Dr. Zee, visibly trembling, "you might 
be interested to know that it's precisely because of what happened that I 
became so closed, aloof. I felt I had no choice but to repress 
everything--all my emotions--for fear of something like that happening 
again which could, quite possibly, hurt someone else or threaten the 
safety of the Galactica and/or the fleet. So, if you think for one micron, 
Wellington, that I wasn't hurt by this, think again!"
     Dr. Zee slumped back into the chair, hands locked tight. He couldn't 
look at Wellington. He swallowed hard, and concluded, his voice sounding 
drained, "Seven years is a long time to not allow oneself to express one's 
feelings for fear of presenting a danger to the fleet. I did it, but I 
just can't any more."
     Slowly, forcing himself to look at Wellington, Dr. Zee saw 
open-mouthed astonishment and, to his surprise, respect.
     "You mean, because of what happened, pasting me on that wall, 
you--like--but--like how can you just turn off your emotions?" Wellington 
stammered.
     "Will power, I suppose," replied Dr. Zee softly.

                            31. Reconciliation

     Wellington saw tears still clinging to Dr. Zee's eyelashes with an 
occasional one sliding down his cheek. Wellington was thoroughly deflated. 
Dr. Zee had given him quite a bit to swallow and it was going down hard, 
hurting every bit of the way. He had never stopped to consider that Dr. 
Zee could have panicked; he had never equated Dr. Zee's sudden withdrawal 
from the Triad circle, or his subsequent aloof, almost cold disposition 
with the incident. He had just figured that was the way Dr. Zee just 
wanted to be. It was obvious to him now, painfully so, that nothing could 
be farther from the truth.
     Wellington managed to shift his position, reaching out as far as he 
could with his good hand. His reach was far enough that he could grab Dr. 
Zee's tightly locked, white-knuckled hands.
     "Can't you tell me what lifted me up like that?"
     Wellington saw a look of pain streak across Dr. Zee's face. His hands 
slowly tightened on Wellington's as he said, "If you only knew how much I 
wish I could, but--but not now. I can only tell you that I've had to learn 
a lot about myself and other things in order to allow myself to express my 
emotions again. And, I fear, I am probably overcompensating and will have 
to find a balance." He took a long breath. "Don't let what I say now shock 
you too much, Wellington. "I'm trying to--what's the expression here--'get 
my act together', I think is the right one, but I don't know if I can 
without some sort of resolution between us. I Never wanted to hurt you; 
all I had ever wanted was your possible friendship. Please, Wellington, 
you've had your revenge. I promise to tell you what you want to know, but, 
as I say, I can't just now!"
     Wellington could feel the tremors in Dr. Zee's hands; his eyes held 
within them a hurt that almost choked Wellington, as well as a desperate 
plea for a response.
     Wellington could feel his head spinning, not from the concussion, but 
from the realization that not only had he completely misread Dr. Zee, he 
had possibly--no, more like probably been a major contributor through his 
own resentment and jealousy to seven years of unimaginable hell for Dr. 
Zee. He could feel his own lips trembling. Dr. Zee was right; there had to 
be an end to this--a resolution.
     Wellington was growing up fast. The more he looked at what he had 
done and plotted and schemed, and the more he looked at the pale-faced, 
green-eyed Dr. Zee, the more stupid and childish he felt. Whatever this 
unexplainable thing was that had happened had brought forth in Wellington 
such intense emotion that he had wanted revenge; that very same thing had 
cost Dr. Zee his emotional freedom in order to keep the fleet and 
Wellington safe from a possible reoccurrence.
     He opened his mouth to speak, but the lump in his throat made speech 
impossible. He hurt, not so much physically, even though the shoulder was 
painful, but inside. With all his heart he, Wellington, who just a couple 
of hours ago had wanted to kill Dr. Zee, now wished more than anything 
that he could take back all the hurt. Helplessly, he knew that was not 
possible. As he pressed Dr. Zee's still locked hands tightly in his one 
good hand, Wellington could only cry.
     Dr. Zee felt the grip on his hands and saw the look in Wellington's 
face and eyes. He watched as the tears broke hard, as Wellington tried to 
speak and could not. Slowly, tentatively, Dr. Zee opened his mind to sense 
Wellington. What he sensed accelerated the rush of tears in his own eyes. 
Wellington was hurting--for him.
     Dr. Zee found himself reaching across, careful of Wellington's braced 
shoulder, and putting his arms around Wellington, his cheek against 
Wellington's forehead. Wellington's good hand grasped Dr. Zee's shoulder 
and held tight.
     They clung together like this for several minutes. Finally, Dr. Zee 
lifted his head. He took a slow, deep breath, trying to regain control. 
"What now, Wellington?" he asked, softly. "Where do we go from here?"
     Wellington's blue eyes met Dr. Zee's green ones. He, too, had to take 
a couple of deep breaths before he could speak. "I don' know, Dr. Zee. All 
I know is I caused you a lot o' hurt, but you still care. And, right now, 
I can't figure out why?"
     Dr. Zee sat back in the chair. He felt wrung out. "Perhaps it's just 
the way I am, Wellington. I can't help it. I've always cared about you. 
Why do you think I tried so hard to encourage you in your engineering and 
computer skills? Why do you think I asked you to assist me with projects? 
I respected your intelligence and was trying as hard as I could to support 
you in the areas I believed were your greatest strengths! Yes, Wellington, 
I care. And if you're looking to know if I have ever made a mistake, the 
answer is an absolute yes; my mistake was not knowing how to get that 
message across to you in a way you would accept from me."
     Wellington closed his eyes. His head hurt, his shoulder hurt, but, 
most of all, his heart and mind hurt. Dr. Zee hadn't made a mistake; he, 
Wellington, had by not listening, something he had turned into a science.
     "I'm the one who blew it big time," said Wellington miserably. "I 
messed up then, and I, for sure, messed up now." Wellington suddenly had a 
strange thought. Dr. Zee could see a tremulous smile on Wellington's lips.
     "What is it?" asked Dr. Zee.
     "Maybe you did make a big mistake after all."
     Dr. Zee felt his stomach tighten. "All right, what do you think my 
mistake was?"
     Wellington's mind was filling with a vision or thought which was 
making his smile broader, yet still hesitant. "You should have let me fall 
on my thick head instead of my ankles. Might have knocked some sense into 
it and kept us both out of trouble."
     That was Wellington--ready with a crack or joke right up to the end. 
Dr. Zee's jaw dropped, his eyes widened, then he started to laugh. "We 
could always use my time warp synthesizer and try it again," he said, 
leaning against the counter, still laughing.
     Wellington was laughing, too, but it hurt. "Ou!" he gasped. "No fair! 
Look, can you please fix up my shoulder so I can at least laugh without 
hurting?"
     Dr. Zee managed to recover himself. He snatched up the scanner and 
did another rapid comprehensive. "Yeah, but promise me one thing."
     Wellington blinked. "What?"
     Dr. Zee paused a moment, then said, "When I tell you about--well, 
please promise me you will not share it with anyone. I think--I hope that 
when you know, you will understand why I ask this."
     Wellington gave his word and squeezed Dr. Zee's arm.
     Dr. Zee quickly walked to the door, opened it and called to Celesta. 
"We have a lot of work to do," he told her.
     She could see his smile, feel his relief and inner peace. She put her 
arms around him and hugged him, letting him feel her mental cheer.
     The rift that had existed so long between Dr. Zee and Wellington had 
finally closed and a friendship had taken root. Celesta knew, however, 
there was still more to come.

                        32. Picking Up The Pieces

     The shoulder surgery had gone perfectly. Dr. Zee had needed to use 
his computron to amplify power in the dermal grafter in order to repair 
the ligaments and muscle tissues, but everything had gone well.
     Now, Dr. Zee was faced with a slight dilemma; he needed a bone 
knitter to repair the chip and hairline crack in Wellington's collar bone. 
The small bone knitter would not be strong enough. He knew what he needed 
to do, but wasn't sure such a procedure would be possible as he did not 
have the right tools.
     "What's the problem," asked Celesta, noting the thoughtful frown on 
Dr. Zee's face.
     "The problem is a lack of tools," replied Dr. Zee. "If we're going to 
knit that collar bone, I'll need to dismantle this small bone knitter and, 
somehow, connect the probe to a recalibrated laser. I would need some 
wire." He tapped into his computron for a reference. "Copper wire. I also 
would have to find something to hold the connection together."
     "So?" prompted Celesta.
     Wellington, now lying on his back free of the shoulder brace, watched 
Dr. Zee's intense thoughtfulness. Because he, too, had some talent for 
engineering and mechanics, he could see where Dr. Zee was leading. 
"Electrical tape," he said.
     Dr. Zee's head swiveled toward him. "What?"
     "Captain Troy and Lieutenant Dillon probably have enough tools in 
their repair kits to dismantle that." Wellington pointed to the small bone 
knitter. "Mr. A.'s got copper wire in the basement." He lifted his good 
right hand and pointed to a drawer. "The electrical tape is in there. 
It'll probably handle the power okay, and it's pretty easy to get off."
     Dr. Zee began to smile. "Yes, I think that would work. But what is 
this electrical tape?" He had walked over to the counter and opened the 
drawer to which Wellington had pointed, searching its contents.
     Wellington managed to turn so he could see the drawer more clearly. 
"That!" he grinned, pointing to an object. "That black roll--no, the 
little one."
     Dr. Zee picked up the roll of tape and scanned it. "Yes!" he 
exclaimed. "That would be precisely what I need. Now, then, where to find 
this wire?"
     Dr. Zee borrowed Troy's tools and laser, Hector's copper wire and 
cutters and the electrical tape, and, with Dillon's extra hands,  
fashioned a crude, but very usable, knitter which could handle the 
thickness of the collar bone.
     "Nice work!" was Celesta's soft exclamation. "I wondered how you were 
going to do that, Dr."
     Wellington slipped off the kitchen table. "It feels great," he said 
as he cautiously moved his shoulder.
     "It may feel great, but I don't want to see you doing any major 
lifting or anything like that for another day or two, not only because of 
the shoulder but, don't forget, you do have a concussion," was Dr. Zee's 
admonition.
     Wellington nodded. "Okay," he said. "But it's not gonna be easy."
     Dr. Zee allowed himself to give Wellington a glare. "Tough," he 
responded. "Let's just say I don't want to see my lovely handiwork 
destroyed."
     Wellington sighed and watched as Dr. Zee, Celesta and Dillon cleaned 
up the kitchen and stuffed the equipment away. Dr. Zee took a few moments 
to disconnect the probe from the laser and set the laser's calibrations 
back to normal.
     Since Maria's kitchen had been turned into a surgery, Troy had 
grabbed his wallet and made a dash to the Valley Market, picked up a dozen 
barbecued chickens, several pounds of salad, disposable plates and 
utensils and brought them back to the house. By the time he returned, 
things seemed to be winding down and the kitchen was being put back to its 
normal state.
     Meanwhile, Dillon had gotten the rest of the Galactican children to 
get themselves cleaned up, after which, they assembled in the barn. Some 
of them had expressed anger, some didn't know how to say what they felt. 
All of them were concerned for Wellington, but, perhaps surprisingly, even 
more worried about Dr. Zee, especially knowing that he was the one who was 
doing the surgery on Wellington. They had all been awakened by 
Wellington's shouting in the night.
     "I just can't believe Wellington really wanted to hurt Dr. Zee like 
that!" Lancer exploded. "Dr. Zee sure must have known something because he 
told me to stay clear of Wellington. That was yesterday, right after that 
frimp punched me off the porch." Lancer winced at the recollection.
     Starla looked up at Dillon with tear-filled eyes. "Why, Lieutenant?" 
The tears began to run down her face. "Dr. Zee wouldn't hurt anybody. He 
saved us! He saved me--twice! I fell down and the tractor was coming 
right at me and he grabbed me and jumped into a tree. His heart was 
beating so fast and he looked so scared!" she broke down and couldn't 
control her sobs. "And even with all that, he still ran to help 
Wellington! I don't know if I could do that."
     Dillon took Starla in his arms and held her close. "Dr. Zee is very 
special," he said gently as he stroked her hair and smoothed her cheek. He 
felt his own emotions rise and almost choke him. "A lot of people don't 
understand him real well, and sometimes he may seem almost like he doesn't 
care, but he does. I truly believe that, and I know you do, to, Starla. In 
fact, I think all of you probably believe it."
     They all nodded and murmured agreement.
     Dillon continued, "I guess, on the Galactica, he has to kind o' hold 
himself back so he can do all the things he has to do. Down here, he can 
relax a bit more."
     Starla looked up with wide eyes and a tremulous smile. "I thought 
that was probably it," she said softly. "I bet it get's lonely, too."
     "I bet you're probably right," replied Dillon just as softly and with 
a trace of sadness.
     His face became serious as he continued, "What Wellington did was 
very wrong and very hurtful and I don't blame you for feeling angry. We're 
all gonna have to try and forgive him, though. Probably the best way we 
can help both Dr. Zee and Wellington is to pray for them. So, why don't we 
do that now. Okay?"
     They gathered close together, Starla still leaning in the circle of 
Dillon's arm, her head against his chest. They all clasped hands and 
lifted up their own silent prayers.
     Everyone was relieved to hear that Wellington would be okay, but, 
even with the relief, the mood was rather somber. Troy and Dillon knew 
that they would have to deal with Wellington and the still submerged 
tractor. They really had no clear-cut idea of how, but they knew they 
would have to do something. Troy tried to recall all the ways Adama  and 
Apollo had dealt with him in his youth. He couldn't help but wish his 
grandfather were here, now, even just to give advice.
     The first thing Troy and Dillon felt they should do was talk to 
Hector. They found him walking near the barn, his face grave and 
thoughtful.
     "Hector," said Troy, "I'm sorry this had to happen. Whatever it 
takes, we'll take care of the cost of repairing or replacing the vehicle."
     "Oh, Troy," replied a frustrated Hector. "I don't care about the 
tractor as much as we do need to have it. What bothers me is--what was 
Wellington thinking of?" Hector was clearly exasperated. "What was he 
trying to do out there? I gave him specific instructions to stay back from 
there by about fifty yards!" He sighed. "Ya know, sometimes that boy can 
be so smart; other times--"
     It was Troy's turn to sigh. "Yeah, I know. And, in all honesty, I'm 
at a total loss as to how to deal with Wellington right now."
     "I sure haven't got any answers, either," groaned Dillon. 
"Personally, I'd like to beat the pants off of him."
     Hector shook his head. "I don't think that would accomplish much," he 
said. Looking at Dillon and Troy, he had a strong feeling they felt this 
was way over their heads. "Can I offer some advice?" he asked gently.
     "Absolutely," was Troy's grateful response. "And if you'd rather be 
the one to handle--"
     "No, Troy," replied Hector, shaking his head and placing a hand on 
Troy's shoulder. "I think it would be better for you guys to handle 
Wellington. He is, after all, one of your own. But, I have an idea."
     "What's that?" asked Dillon.
     "Punishment can take many different forms," said Hector. "Sometimes 
the hardest ones are from the inside rather than from other hands."
     Troy and Dillon had to think about that for a moment. There had been 
times when Troy, himself, had gotten into serious trouble; Apollo would 
sit him down, reprimand him firmly, use the experience as a teaching tool 
and, then, do nothing else in the way of punitive measure, leaving Troy 
with a wad to chew on and, hopefully, a lesson well learned.
     Troy sighed. Wellington indeed had a very large wad to chew on, here. 
Troy knew there had been a resolution and reconciliation between 
Wellington and Dr. Zee. He and Dillon had heard the shouting, though they 
could not make out what had been said. After the surgery,  they had seen 
the two actually talking with each other--and smiling. At least, thought 
Troy, that whole business was, hopefully, over. He figured Dr. Zee had 
probably given Wellington a great deal of food for thought, too.
     "I think I get what you're saying," Troy acknowledged. "There were 
lots of times when my father did just that--left me with a lot to think 
about."
     "Uhhuh," smiled Hector. "And I'll bet you those lessons stuck with 
you better than any others."
     Troy and Dillon both nodded.
     They thanked Hector and headed back for the house to get something to 
eat.
     Celesta noted Dr. Zee's abrupt rise from his chair after dinner. He 
had been silent and thoughtful; she had a good idea that his thoughts were 
on Wellington. She followed him as he walked from the house in the 
direction of the reservoir at a very rapid pace.
     Catching a glimpse of her behind him, he slowed to let her reach him.
     "I know Wellington deserves to be severely punished for what he did," 
said Dr. Zee as he turned to look at Celesta. "I can't help feeling, 
though, that seeing seven years of his own anger and hatred turn against 
him is punishment enough."
     Celesta's arm slipped around Dr. Zee's shoulders. "It's definitely 
something he'll have to live with for a long time," she replied with 
gentle sadness. "I won't doubt that he's learned some hard lessons from 
all of this. At least, both of you can have some peace, now."
     Dr. Zee sighed. "I suppose that's true. At least he doesn't hate me 
any more." His lips twitched with a slight smile.
     "And how do you intend to tell him about how he was plastered on that 
wall?" Celesta asked quietly.
     "I'm really not sure, but I believe it's important."
     Celesta's nod was grave. "I agree. It needs to be done in order to 
help the healing process for both of you. I think, now, Wellington will 
really listen and learn."
     They reached the reservoir. Dr. Zee felt his heart sink as he looked 
down into it. He could see the tractor on it's side, a piece of granite 
from the reservoir wall on top of it. He turned to Celesta and noted the 
frown on her face.
     "I have a bad feeling about this, little one," she said. "I think 
we're both going to have to let the cat out of the bag."
     Dr. Zee shook his head, looking obviously abashed. "We have to do 
what? Cat out of--"
     Celesta had to chuckle. "I took a bit of time to study some 
expressions. It means we have to let out our secret and tell the whole 
truth. There's no way Troy and Dillon are going to be able to get that 
out, even with Hector helping them."
     Dr. Zee took a slow, very deep breath, realizing what Celesta was 
getting at. "Celesta," he said very uncertainly, "I don't have the skills 
to--" Then his heart jumped. "Surely you're not going to try this alone!"
     Celesta drew him close and lifted his face in her hand. "I think you 
have the skills, my dear; you just need two things--a little work and a 
lot of faith."
     "But you said last night I would need to build up my--my mental 
muscles!"
     "I did that, but considering the circumstances, you may have to break 
out your mental adrenaline." Celesta poked him gently in the ribs, giving 
him a tight smile. "Come; let me show you something."
     They turned to the reservoir and walked to it's edge. Dr. Zee 
followed Celesta's gaze downward to the piece of granite on the tractor.
     "Reach out your mind to it," she said, "and weigh it."
     Dr. Zee did, feeling it's heaviness and mass. He could also feel 
Celesta's mind doing the same. Dr. Zee rested his chin in his hand. The 
granite felt to him like an unwieldable mass.
     "I can feel it, too," said Celesta softly. "and I have an idea. If we 
link our minds together, we can work as one."
     "Is that possible?" asked Dr. Zee, hopefulness beginning to replace 
despair.
     "I've only seen it tried once," replied Celesta gravely. "There were 
problems. The two people involved couldn't coordinate their thoughts and 
the results were not good. However, I truly believe we have a chance--a 
good one."
     "Why?"
     "Because you have a strong empathic capability as do I. The two 
involved that I saw could link, but only on a sort of telepathic level. 
They had the right thoughts; they just couldn't get the right feel for 
each other. Using empathy, we would be able to not only know the thoughts, 
but really sense each other and know where we're at."
     Dr. Zee looked back at the mess below the surface of the water. "I'll 
try anything if it will help the situation," was his earnest response.
     "Well, let's go back to the house and see what's going on," said 
Celesta, linking Dr. Zee's arm through hers. "I have a feeling this is 
going to be a very long night."

                     33. What To Do With Wellington?

     Wellington knew he was in very deep trouble and was ready to pay for 
it. His personal vendetta had gotten out of hand; now, he would have to 
accept the consequences for his actions. Even though a lot of things had 
been resolved between them, Wellington expected no help from Dr. Zee. In 
fact, he would rather refuse it if it was offered. He had brought all of 
this on himself by his own inability to let go of a grudge which he had 
allowed to fester and grow way out of proportion. He had always hated 
being treated like a child, but, hard as it was for him to admit to 
himself, that was precisely what he was and his actions had thoroughly 
proved it.
     Now, he looked at the faces of Captain Troy and Lieutenant Dillon 
before him as they sat in the living room after dinner.
     "Well, what do you have to say for yourself, Wellington?" asked Troy 
calmly.
     Wellington lowered his eyes to the floor. "I--Well, I did a real dumb 
thing, Captain, and I know that."
     "You did more than just a real dumb thing, Wellington," Troy 
responded sternly. "You could have seriously injured, even killed someone. 
Now, I don't know what the heck you were trying to prove out there or what 
your problem is with Dr. Zee, but this goes way beyond just dumb. It goes 
into the realm of absolutely, completely, totally irresponsible behavior."
     Wellington shrank beneath Troy's intense, stern gaze. "Yes, Sir," he 
said very meekly. He glanced at Dillon, but found no respite there in 
Dillon's dark frown.
     "You've put us in a very difficult position, Wellington," Troy 
continued. "Now, I don't know how we're going to get that tractor out of 
there, and, if and when we do, repairing it may be impossible, which means 
that, somehow, it's going to have to be replaced. If that's the case, 
getting enough Earth currency to do this will be difficult, maybe, 
impossible. Now, Mr. Alanzo and his family can't afford another vehicle. 
And, since that tractor is very necessary to keep this farm going, without 
it, the farm will suffer, which will impact on the Alanzos, which, in 
turn, will impact on our share, and we could, very possibly, lose this 
place for our prospective colony. Something to think about, Wellington; 
your solution to your problem with one person could possibly change the 
lives of many."
     Wellington began to shake. Could what he had done possibly do all 
that? Yes, indeed it could.
     Slowly, bringing his eyes up to Troy's face, he asked, "What are you 
going to do with me, Captain?"
     Troy frowned thoughtfully. "I could take you back to the Galactica 
and let the commander deal with you."
     Terror gripped Wellington. He had seen Adama angry on a couple of 
occasions and his stern face with its fiery eyes etched itself on 
Wellington's brain at that moment. "Please, Captain!" cried Wellington. 
The last thing he wanted to do was go back there and face Commander Adama. 
However, he knew he had better start accepting responsibility for his 
actions. If that meant he had to return to the Galactica and face its 
commander, he would have to accept that as well.
     Wellington managed to compose himself and stand at attention. 
"Permission to speak, Sir," he said.
     Troy nodded. "Permission granted."
     Wellington cleared his throat and drew himself erect, forcing himself 
to look directly into Captain Troy's eyes. "What I did was very Wrong, 
Sir," he began, his voice more shaky than he wished it to be. "And I 
really don't know what I can do to make up for the damage. I'd like a 
chance to prove, somehow, that I'm sorry and that I know I need to take 
more responsibility for my actions. I kind o' wish you wouldn't take me 
back to the Galactica, but if you feel that's what needs to be done, then 
do so, Sir."
     Troy's frown softened. He had seen the momentary terror in Wellington 
at the suggestion of dealing with Commander Adama. "What should I do with 
Wellington?" he thought. The more he thought about it, the more he felt 
that, perhaps, he should do exactly what Hector had suggested and his own 
father had done on more than one occasion; he should do  nothing, letting 
Wellington's own conscience and the lessons he had learned be his 
punishers.
     Finally, Troy said, "To be quite honest, Wellington, I can't afford 
to take you back to the Galactica."
     Wellington started. "Sir?"
     "Doing that would give us one less person to perform the necessary 
chores around this place, and we may all find ourselves working a lot 
harder to make up for not having the tractor."
     "Yes, Sir." Wellington wished that Troy would get it over with and 
tell him what his punishment would be.
     Troy suddenly had an interesting thought. He also had a very hard 
time keeping his face straight.
     "I suspect you've learned at least one lesson from all of this, quite 
possibly, a few," said Troy, "and, maybe, some of what I've said to you 
may teach you a few more. You're gonna have to work hard, Wellington. Now, 
since I get the impression you've resolved your problem with Dr. Zee, I 
think you might offer to make yourself useful to him."
     Wellington's mouth fell open and his eyes almost popped out of his 
head. "Sir?" he stammered. How in the galaxy could he make himself useful 
to Dr. Zee? He would, at this point, willingly do anything. What was 
Captain Troy getting at?
     Dillon had also been taken aback by Troy's thinking, but, perhaps, it 
had merit. In fact, it could, indeed, be very beneficial to both of them.
     Troy could see that Dillon was now on his wavelength. "Dillon?"
     Dillon nodded and looked at Wellington. "Sure," he said. "Remember 
that he's compiled all the information we have on Earth, but compiling it 
and viewing it are a whole lot different from living it. He's probably 
going to need a lot of help adjusting to the terminology, customs, all the 
things you and the other children, and us, too, have been learning first 
hand."
     "Exactly," Troy agreed. "And it would give you a chance to get to 
know him better, too. And, perhaps, you might learn something from him."
     Wellington started to smile. "Yes, Sir!" he exclaimed. "Sure, I could 
do that."
     Troy and Dillon both allowed themselves to relax a bit. "Then, go on, 
now," said Troy. "Dismissed."
     Wellington saluted and turned for the door, then stopped abruptly. 
Weren't Troy and Dillon going to strap him or something like that? He knew 
he deserved it.
     Slowly he turned back to them. "Captain, aren't you going to--"
     "Punish you?" asked Troy quietly, anticipating Wellington's thought. 
"If you were a warrior, I would put this in your record. But, since you're 
not, I can't. You'll be living with this experience for a long time, 
Wellington, and playing it over and over in your mind. Maybe, when you 
grow up and have children of your own, you'll use it to teach them. The 
one thing I would very strongly suggest is that you personally apologize 
to Mr. Alanzo and accept whatever he wishes to do with you. The vehicle 
is, after all, his property."
     Wellington nodded. "Yes, Captain, I'll do that right now." He left 
the room quickly.
     Dillon looked at Troy who had risen from the sofa. "Troy, do you 
think we did the right thing?"
     "I don't know," Troy replied. "One can only hope. I guess Apollo and 
Adama often wondered the same thing when dealing with me." He started to 
chuckle. "And I was no angel, believe me."

                      34. The Cat's Out Of The Bag.

     "No way!" Hector was emphatic. "There is no way the three of us are 
going to get it out of there!"
     Dillon and Troy stood looking down at the tractor with the piece of 
stone on top of it. The situation looked hopeless.
     "There's got to be a way!" exclaimed Dillon. "Troy, couldn't we use 
the bikes?"
     Troy scratched his head. "The turbos could handle it if we open them 
up all the way, but we don't have enough rope and what we do have couldn't 
support the weight."
     "Face it, my friends," sighed Hector, "we'd have to get a crane in 
here to do the job."
     As they started for the house, they saw Celesta, Dr. Zee and 
Wellington coming toward them. "What in the world?" Dillon murmured.
     Dr. Zee and Wellington halted; Celesta continued toward them. 
"Captain Troy, Lieutenant Dillon, we need to talk," she called.
     Hector smiled. "You two go on; I'll head back to the house and meet 
you there. I guess we'll have to wait until morning before we can get 
someone out here."
     Celesta had reached them and her eyes had a questioning look.
     "Hector thinks the only way for us to get that tractor out is with a 
crane; it's a large vehicle used for lifting things," Troy told her.
     "I see," she said. "Maybe you can wait on that crane thing for a 
while? There may be another way."
     "Sure," was Hector's dubious reply. "But I don't see how."
     "Let's just say there's a possibility," Celesta replied. "If it 
doesn't work, then, get the crane."
     Troy and Dillon stared at Celesta and each other, obviously 
perplexed.
     As Hector headed back for the house, Celesta, Troy, Dillon, Dr. Zee 
and Wellington went into the barn which was uninhabited at the moment.
     "Celesta," Troy wavered, "Do you have any idea how much a tractor 
weighs?"
     "And that piece of granite on top of it probably isn't so light, 
either," added Dillon.
     Wellington's expression clearly showed that he had no idea why he was 
there at all. Dr. Zee had asked Wellington to accompany Celesta and 
himself. All he had said was, "Please come with us; perhaps all of your 
questions about me and what happened to you will be answered."
     Wellington had just nodded and followed; now he was hearing Celesta 
talking about ways to pull the tractor out, but still had no answers. He 
was confused.
     Celesta had that serene smile as she spoke. "I think we'd better all 
sit down, and I'll try to explain with some help, I hope, from my friend 
here." She smiled at Dr. Zee who nodded and drew close to her.
     So, they sat down and she continued. "I know that all of you have 
been making discoveries about Dr. Zee which may have surprised, perplexed 
and enlightened you. I think the time is right to fill you in on one more, 
taking into account that it applies to me as well."
     "Okay," said Troy, but what does this have to do with the tractor?"
     "Patience, my dear Troy," she responded calmly, lifting her hand. "It 
has everything to do with it." she turned to Dr. Zee.
     He nodded acknowledgment and cleared his throat. "I have an ability 
called telekinesis, the ability to move objects through thought," he said. 
Though his voice was controlled, Troy, Dillon and Wellington could see 
that he was uneasy. "I know that sounds impossible," he continued, "but I 
believe Wellington can attest to it's reality."
     Wellington stared up at Dr. Zee and began to shake. He could never 
forget that feeling of suddenly being inexplicably swept from the floor 
and moved to a wall where he had been pinned, unable to move, only able to 
scream. As he looked at Dr. Zee, now, he saw in those intense green eyes a 
shadow of what Dr. Zee must have felt; his words rang in Wellington's 
ears: 'Frack! Wellington! I panicked!'.
     In a flash, Wellington began to understand with nauseating clarity 
why Dr. Zee had felt it necessary to quash any open expressions of emotion 
after that. But what had happened? Why could he talk about it now and 
express himself so openly?
     Dr. Zee seemed to anticipate Wellington's questions, as well as those 
of a rather startled Captain Troy and Lieutenant Dillon.
     "What happened seven years ago was triggered by emotion," he said. 
"That is why I did all I could to avoid another occurrence. I didn't want 
to risk anyone. I could say nothing as I had no information; there was no 
information anywhere that I could find pertaining to such abilities."
     Celesta picked up the thought. "I had gotten wind of some things and 
had a feeling that I could, indeed, be of some help to Dr. Zee. That's why 
I chose to stay, letting the others go back to the fleet."
     "Wait a minute," Troy shook his head, trying to keep up. "If no 
information exists on this, how could you help him?"
     Celesta leaned back against a barrel. "Back on the home planets, 
there were groups of people who studied what could be termed paranormal 
phenomenon. That means, they believed the mind could do a great deal more 
than was normally thought or could possibly be imagined. We discovered 
that people, with the right training, could read minds (telepathy), feel 
physical and emotional responses (empathy), and move objects 
(telekinesis). I had mastered all of these to one degree or another. After 
a good long talk with Dr. Zee yesterday morning, I realized his potentials 
and knew that he needed some serious help to explore them without being 
afraid of them. He first needed to learn how to deal with his emotions 
again and the pain he suffered from binding them for so long."
     She and Dr. Zee looked at the three faces before them. They were all 
wide-eyed, staring, trying to assimilate what they were hearing.
     Wellington was the first to recover his speech. "So, when you got 
angry, that anger triggered this telekinetic thing and that's what put me 
up on that wall?" he asked shakily. "And when you panicked, I guess you 
sort of lost your focus or something and that's why I fell."
     Dr. Zee nodded, sadness and guilt in his eyes. "Yes, exactly," he 
replied. "When I became angry, I thought about hitting you as hard as I 
could, but, as you know, I just can't resort to that. However, my thought, 
in that case, was enough; it--uh--carried out my wishes. I--I am sorry, 
Wellington." Wellington saw Dr. Zee's lips tremble a bit. "Now you know 
why I couldn't back you up. Who would have believed me?"
     Wellington let out a low whistle. Dillon and Troy were trying to make 
sense of all of this.
     Finally, troy managed to pull himself together. "You said that 
emotion was a trigger, but Celesta said it can be controlled."
     "Troy, Celesta was working with me last night," replied Dr. Zee. "I 
learned a lot, but I still have a long way to go; I know that."
     "That's why we disappeared last night after cleaning up," smiled 
Celesta. "And don't let him fool you, Troy, I think he is doing very well. 
In fact, I would say that, emotionally, he has taken some tremendous 
steps. After all, he allowed himself to open to both of you; not an easy 
thing to do, perhaps. And you, Wellington," she shook her finger at him, 
"Expressing to you what he felt was probably the hardest thing in the 
universe for him, but it's all part of a difficult healing process."
     Wellington's eyes lowered. Celesta continued, her tone gently 
encouraging. "As far as his gift is concerned, Dr. Zee is now able to 
control such things as emotional triggers. He just needs more confidence 
in himself, not as a prodigy intellect, but as a whole person."
     Dillon looked at Dr. Zee, his expression a mix of sympathy and awe. 
"I think you've just answered a lot of my questions, Dr. Zee," he said. 
"Now, a whole lot of things are making some sense. I guess I was more 
right than I thought." He hesitated.
     Dr. Zee gave Dillon an understanding smile. "Yes, Dillon, it is 
lonely at the top," he said, his voice barely audible.
     Dillon understood. "What a thing to have to carry around with no one 
to talk to," he thought.
     Troy took a long moment before he asked, "Let me get this straight; 
you both can do this--um--telekinesis at any time?"
     Celesta pointed to a rake hanging on a hook near the barn door. As 
troy, Dillon and Wellington watched, the rake slipped neatly from the hook 
and hung suspended in the air, then spun and flipped over and began to 
beat itself against the ladder leading to the loft. Then it hung pointed 
at the ground and the tines began to bend gently back and forth. It 
finally came to rest on the floor in front of Dillon.
     "Dr. Zee?" She turned to him and pressed his shoulder. Her mind 
reached encouragement and love. "Don't be afraid, my friend," it said. 
"Let this be a part of your healing process."
     Dr. Zee nodded and looked down at the rake. It lifted itself from the 
floor and the three now thoroughly stunned spectators gasped as it floated 
lazily from one end of the barn to the other, it's tines bending and 
straightening, then replaced itself on its hook.
     "Very good!" Celesta smiled, placing her arm around Dr. Zee. "Save 
your strength, now," her mind added. "You'll need it to fetch and carry."
     Dr. Zee smiled weakly and he, to, leaned against the barrel.
     Dillon was trying to slow his heart down. "That's incredible," he 
breathed. Suddenly, he leaned toward Dr. Zee. He felt such a rush of mixed 
emotions--awe, sadness, anger that Dr. Zee had had to hold back all of 
this, and a tremendous love for the youth who had done just that for fear 
of being a risk to anyone. A quick glance at Troy told him that he was 
experiencing similar emotions.
     "Dr. Zee," Dillon managed to say, "you've got a lot of courage and, 
certainly, a lot more strength than I think I'd have."
     "No kidding," added Troy softly. "But I've gotta ask, how many people 
know about this?"
     "As of now, only the three of you and Celesta," Dr. Zee paused, "and 
Adama. I only told him the night we came. I felt I could no longer hold 
back from him. I found out, then, that he was also involved in similar 
research and had some telekinetic abilities, too."
     Troy stared incredulously at Dr. Zee. "Oh, my lord! Now, I think I 
understand something I read in my father's personal journal. I'll show it 
to you when we get back."
     Wellington began to get excited, his quick mind starting to key into 
some possibilities. But with the excitement was also skepticism. "Okay," 
he began, "this may sound dumb, but, the way I figure it, wouldn't this 
telekinesis thing be affected by weight? I sort of picture it like lifting 
without physically touching, so I can understand how you could pick me 
up." He looked at Dr. Zee as he said that. Then, looking at both Celesta 
and Dr. Zee, he continued, "But we're talking about something like 
two-thousand-plus Earth pounds--more if you're gonna figure in the stone."
     Dr. Zee smiled. "Yes, I couldn't possibly lift either the stone or 
the vehicle. To begin with, I am only a beginner at this and still have to 
build up my mental muscles, as Celesta calls it."
     "That's right," Celesta agreed. "I have lifted land rovers, and I'm 
sure the water will be most helpful to us." She looked at Wellington and 
allowed him a smile of approval. "Your picture is almost right, young man. 
But like exercisers and weight lifters who can build up to where they can 
lift many times their own weight, people with telekinetic abilities can do 
the same thing, building up a sort of tolerance."
     Wellington nodded. "Wow!" he softly ejaculated.
     "Dr. Zee and I also have a--shall we say--a special empathic 
connection. I can link with him and, perhaps with our combined strength, 
we can at least shove the stone off the tractor; then, if not tonight, 
tomorrow, we can try to lift the vehicle itself. Personally, I think we 
should try the stone moving tonight and wait for the morning before 
attempting the other. Dr. Zee will, no doubt, be exhausted, particularly 
since he's had such a busy day with surgery and all." She gave Wellington 
a look which made him groan inwardly.
     "Yeah," Troy swallowed hard. Digesting this was not and easy task. He 
would, indeed, have to show Dr. Zee that journal entry; maybe it might 
help both of them.
     "Okay," said Troy, collecting himself. "But how do we explain this to 
Hector? He's sure going to want to know--uh--something."
     They all sat and contemplated this for a few moments. Finally, 
Wellington spoke cautiously. "Captain, I know our lasers aren't designed 
to work under water, but Mr. A. doesn't know that."
     "What have you got up your sleeve, now, Wellington?" asked Troy, 
ready to expect just about anything from the unpredictable Wellington.
     "Well, you know that scuba gear he's got? Ask to borrow it and then 
go down to the bottom of the reservoir and make it look like you're 
breaking up the stone with the laser."
     Dillon started to smile, his eyes glinting. "Ya know, Troy, that's a 
possibility." At least it would explain the stone. He wouldn't have to 
come down and watch, but if he thinks that's why we need the gear--"
     Troy began to grin as well. Dr. Zee reached over and squeezed 
Wellington's stretched-out ankle.
     "Not bad, Wellington," Troy assented. "Okay, that's one down that we 
can get away with. But the tractor--"
     "We'll sleep on that one," was celesta's firm pronouncement. "Like I 
say, that can wait until morning."

                              35. New Bonds

     Hector had drawn his wife aside in the kitchen after sending the rest 
of the children into the living room. He could see she looked tired and 
concerned.
     "Celesta wants me to wait before getting a crane in here to pull out 
the tractor," he said as he poured himself a glass of wine. "Don't ask me 
what they're planning, but I'm learning not to be surprised at anything 
these people can do." He smiled, drawing a chair beside Maria.
     "Hector," she said, laying a hand on his arm, "I keep getting this 
feeling, mostly when I'm around Celesta, but I'm getting it more and more 
from Dr. Zee, now, too."
     Hector leaned toward her. He had a great respect for Maria's 
intuitions and her incredible ability to feel people out. "What is this 
feeling?" he asked gently.
     "It's not a bad feeling," she replied quickly, "it's sort of 
like--it's powerful," she finished softly. Hector shook his head, not 
quite comprehending what she meant. "I mean, it's like they can sense 
things. I know I'm not making sense, am I."
     Hector put his arm around her and drew her to him. "Does it make 
sense to you?"
     Maria knitted her brows. "Yes and no," she hesitated. "I feel that 
they, particularly Celesta, may have something like an empathic ability. 
Remember how your father could sense things in people like pain and how 
they were feeling, maybe even what they were thinking?"
     Hector nodded. "He was a very unusual man."
     Maria rested her head against Hector's chest. "Well, I used to get 
the same kind of powerful feeling from him. It was wonderful, and I wished 
I could do all the things he could. That's the same kind of feeling I get 
from Celesta and, now, like I say, I'm getting the same vibes--I guess 
that's the best way to describe it--from Dr. Zee. I wish I could ask 
them--" Her words trailed off and she hugged Hector.
     It was just about at that point when Dr. Zee and Celesta had reached 
the house. Wellington had stayed with Dillon and Troy to show them the 
scuba gear.
     Celesta stopped just short of the porch, her head suddenly lifting as 
if she were listening to something. It only took Dr. Zee a moment to key 
into what had alerted her. Both of them were suddenly aware of a strong 
feeling of empathy emanating from the house. It was filled with awe, 
respect and deep love.
     "Who?" Dr. Zee's question was barely a whisper.
     Celesta mentally listened another moment, then replied softly, "I 
think it's Maria. I don't believe she's aware that she's projecting, but I 
do get the impression that she has, somehow, become aware of us, that is, 
our capabilities."
     Dr. Zee nodded, trying to home in on what he sensed. "Celesta," he 
breathed, "I have seen references to what earth people call 
parapsychology, but their knowledge is sketchy at best and, more often 
than not, refuting that such capabilities truly exist."
     "Yes, I've looked at some of those references, too," acknowledged 
Celesta. "I'm beginning to think, however, that, especially from what 
we're sensing now, there are those who do understand such things here. I 
also feel very strongly that we should take the risk and tell them our 
plans, and forget the scuba ruse."
     Dr. Zee contemplated that for a long moment. Perhaps, Celesta was 
right. "We've trusted them with who we are and where we're from," he 
responded softly. "I must agree; to be less than honest with them would 
not be right."
     Wellington ran toward them signaling with his hand that they were 
ready. Dr. Zee quickly moved toward him and shook his head. "No," he 
whispered, "we cannot deceive these people."
     Wellington's jaw dropped. "What are you talking about?" he hissed. 
"Are you crazy? If you think we had a hard time understanding what you and 
Celesta told us, they'll freak  out!"
     Dr. Zee didn't know exactly what the term meant, but had a pretty 
good idea of what Wellington was trying to get across. "I don't think they 
will," he replied. "I can only say that we believe they have some 
knowledge of these things." Wellington started to speak, but Dr. Zee cut 
him off, grasping his arm and pointing him toward the barn. "I can't 
explain now; just go and tell Troy and Dillon that we feel it's only right 
to be as open with Hector and Maria as they have been with us."
     "Okay," Wellington was not totally convinced. "What should I tell 
them to do?"
     "Tell them to wait for us at the reservoir," replied Dr. Zee. "We'll 
be there as soon as we can."
     Wellington nodded and dashed off to tell the men what Dr. Zee had 
said. They, too, pondered whether or not it was a good idea to share such 
information with Hector and Maria, but both agreed that, perhaps, it would 
be best to trust Celesta and Dr. Zee on this.
     Celesta and Dr. Zee entered the kitchen and saw Hector and Maria 
disengaging from their hug. "Oops," smiled Celesta.
     "No," Maria smiled, "it's all right; you're not interrupting 
anything."
     Hector, too, smiled. "So, Celesta, what's your miracle solution for 
our little problem?"
     Celesta looked at Dr. Zee, who nodded. They could both still sense 
Maria.
     They sat down and Celesta looked gently into Maria's eyes. "You have 
a question, my friend, but you don't know how to ask it. Am I right?"
     Maria started slightly. "Well, yes," she began, "but I don't know if 
your people deal with--well--we call it things like strong intuition or--"
     "Empathy?" Celesta and Dr. Zee could feel her astonishment and desire 
to understand more.
     Hector pulled his chair closer.
     "Yes," breathed Maria. "Sometimes, I can sense things about people, 
but I can't explain how."
     "You're sensitive," Celesta replied gently. "And I think you've 
probably been feeling me out--and Dr. Zee, yes?"
     Maria nodded. "It's like--I can't describe it, but I trust it. 
Mostly, I feel it from you, Celesta, but, more and more, now, I'm feeling 
it from you, too, Dr. Zee."
     Dr. Zee looked to Celesta for help; he didn't quite know how to 
respond.
     Celesta smiled at Hector. "I have a feeling this type of thing is not 
so alien to you, either, Hector."
     "No," he replied. "My father was," he tried to find the appropriate 
word, "very gifted. He knew how to touch people and take away their pain. 
He knew just by looking at them and touching them where they hurt and what 
was wrong with them. I remember people bringing their sick children and 
even their animals to him for healing. Some were fearful of him; they 
called him a curandero--a witch doctor--someone who uses magic. Most of 
the people, though, loved him. They knew that he was a godly man and would 
never hurt anyone." He regarded Celesta and Dr. Zee. "Can you do these 
kinds of things, too? And Troy and Dillon?"
     Celesta laughed. "No, Troy and Dillon can't, but, yes, Dr. Zee and I 
can do many things. Of course, he is only just discovering what he can 
do."
     "Oh!" Maria's exclamation was barely above a whisper. She looked at 
Dr. Zee, her eyes full of questions.
     "I discovered some things inadvertently some years ago," he 
explained. "Unfortunately, this may be one area in which you are somewhat 
in advance of us. We had no information on unusual mental gifts. Because 
of that lack of information, I--well, I felt it necessary to hold back my 
emotions as much as possible for fear of triggering another incident. 
Celesta has been helping me to understand what happened to me and I trust 
her guidance."
     "That's why our dear Dr. Zee has been able to open up more and show 
you the beautiful person that's been hiding inside," smiled Celesta, 
pressing his shoulder and giving him a mental embrace.
     "I see," was Maria's soft acknowledgment.
     Hector leaned back in his chair. "Why do I get the feeling that this 
ties in, somehow, with your solution?"
     "Trust your feelings, Hector," was Celesta's serene reply. "It has 
everything to do with our solution. One of the things we can do is move 
objects with our minds."
     "Telekinesis?" Hector asked, lifting his chin in surprise. "I've 
heard people who claim they can do that, but, certainly, with nothing as 
large as a tractor."
     Celesta chuckled. "Well, we're sure gonna try. If Dr. Zee and I link 
ourselves together and use our combined strengths, I think we have a 
pretty good chance at it.
     Hector whistled and ran his hand across his brow. Maria rose and 
refilled his wine glass as well as filling one for herself.
     "You're talking about first moving that piece of stone down there and 
then something like two-thousand pounds of tractor!" he exclaimed.
     "It cannot be accomplished all at once," said Dr. Zee. "Celesta 
thinks we can move the stone from the tractor, not necessarily lifting it 
out."
     "And then, tomorrow, we'll go for the big one," added Celesta. "The 
stone should be fairly easy, but Dr. Zee, being still in discovery mode, 
shall we say, will need to rest before we tackle the vehicle."
     Maria searched Dr. Zee's face with worried eyes. "Is there any 
danger, Celesta? After all, he is still recovering from that surgery 
and--"
     "If I even think that Dr. Zee may be in danger, we'll abandon the 
attempt," Celesta reassured her.
     Dr. Zee stood up and went to Maria who took him close to her. "I'm 
sorry," she said softly, "But it's that mother's instinct; that need to 
protect."
     Dr. Zee leaned in the circle of her arms and kissed her cheek. "I 
truly appreciate it, Maria." He spoke softly against her ear. "It means a 
great deal to me and I thank you."
     Maria smiled, then released him with some reluctance.
     "Troy and Dillon will be waiting for us at the reservoir," Dr. Zee 
said. "I know you probably both would like to see this, but someone must 
remain with the children and keep them clear of the area."
     "Yes," and Celesta nodded a definite agreement. "I think enough 
people know about all this."
     "Hector, you should go down with them," Maria stated. "I'll keep the 
banditos occupied here."
     And so Hector, Celesta and Dr. Zee headed for the reservoir to meet 
Dillon, Troy and Wellington.

                           36. Moving the Stone

     Gloria had been keeping the children busy with movies and video 
games. Most of them seemed content to just sit back and watch movies or 
whatever. An atmosphere of fatigue and worry seemed to be pervading the 
place.
     Maria came in to join them and was immediately besieged by questions 
of, "Where's Wellington and Dr. Zee?" "What's happening?" "Anyone got any 
ideas on how to get the tractor out?"
     Maria smiled and did her best to answer as many of the questions as 
she could. She knew that sharing the things which Dr. Zee and Celesta had 
shared with her would not be a good idea.
     "Okay, Okay," she laughed. "Troy, Dillon and Mr. A. are down at the 
reservoir with Celesta and Dr. Zee. They're trying to come up with a way 
to get the tractor out of there. Wellington's down there, too. He feels 
badly about what happened and wants to try to help." The children, 
including Chris, jumped up and down begging to go down there, but Maria 
lifted her hand and said, firmly, "No, not this time. I think there are 
quite enough hands trying to help. And you know what happens when too many 
hands are trying to work together."
     She turned to the window. She could see the barn door open and no one 
about, but she didn't want to chance sending the children there lest they 
head toward the reservoir and see what was probably going on. In her 
heart, she, too, wished she could see Dr. Zee and Celesta making this 
phenomenal attempt to move the stone.
     She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to let her mind relax and 
just be, hoping that she could, perhaps, sense something. She wasn't sure 
whether she could or couldn't.
     Smiling at the group of would-be helpers, she said, "I think the best 
way we can help them now is to just think positive and nice things and say 
our prayers that they can do whatever it is they're doing."
     The children had to be content with that for now, and they decided to 
gather into a circle and pray together.
     Chris sat between Lancer and Moonstone, head bowed. Suddenly, he 
began to smile and sing, "God is so good; God is so good; God is so good; 
He's so good to me!"
     Gloria, her mind practically ready to burst with questions for her 
mother to which she had a feeling she would not get many answers, put an 
arm around Maria's waste. Maria, placing her arm around her daughter, 
whispered, "Honey, maybe one day I can answer all your questions, but not 
now. Some time when we're alone and no one is around, then, I'll try to 
answer at least some of them."
     Gloria nodded, hugging Maria who responded with a fervent hug of her 
own.
     "God is so good!" All the children had picked it up, now. Maria and 
Gloria joined them, both smiling.
     Celesta and Dr. Zee had sat down on a rock as close to the reservoir 
as they could get. "I have an idea," said Celesta, looking at Wellington, 
Hector, Dillon and Troy. "Why don't you guys try to clear your minds and 
think about sending your strength to us."
     "But we don't have that type of empathy gift." There was actually a 
trace of sadness in Troy's tone.
     Celesta smiled. "You don't have to have it, Troy; if your intent is 
strong enough, we'll feel it."
     "Well, I'm sure gonna try," was Wellington's resolute pronouncement. 
With that, he planted himself on a log as close to Dr. Zee as he could 
get, his face assuming a very serious and thoughtful expression. He felt 
he had a lot of years to make up for with Dr. Zee. How he was going to do 
that, he didn't know, but if mentally sending his strength and positive 
intent would help, that was what he was going to do.
     Dr. Zee had to smile as he noted Wellington's eagerness to try 
Celesta's idea.
     "Well, it sure wouldn't hurt," said Hector. "If my father could touch 
and heal people with his hands, maybe we can do a little something by 
thinking good strong thoughts."
     So he, Troy and Dillon sat down beside Wellington and cleared their 
minds, focusing their attentions on Celesta and Dr. Zee.
     Celesta took Dr. Zee's hand in hers and reached out her mind to him 
in a gentle, encouraging embrace. His responded linking with hers and 
feeling her thoughts and emotions as he knew she was feeling his.
     "Take some deep breaths, let your mind focus, and just go with it," 
Celesta murmured to him. She could feel his hand tighten on hers. "I know 
you're frightened, little one, but you've got to go beyond that. You can, 
now; feel your center; remember what I taught you."
     Dr. Zee closed his eyes a moment, taking several deep, centering 
breaths. He could feel Celesta's strength merging with his own, and, to 
his surprise, he was also aware of a sense of strength and support from 
elsewhere. He knew he couldn't take time to examine that, now; he had to 
concentrate on the task at hand. He let himself relax, calm replacing his 
fear, focusing on his link with Celesta.
     Finally, he signaled Celesta that he felt ready to begin. He sensed 
her responsiveness to him and they both reached out to test the weight and 
mass of the stone.
     It was heavy, but their intent was not so much to lift it as to move 
it away from the tractor. Celesta's voice spoke softly but resolutely. 
"Now!"
     From where they were sitting, the three men and Wellington could see 
the stone on top of the tractor. For a moment, it seemed to quiver, then, 
slowly, it moved, lifting just enough to clear the vehicle and then drop 
to the bottom of the reservoir leaving the tractor clear.
     The whole process had taken only, perhaps, ten minutes, but as Dr. 
Zee and Celesta slowly lifted their heads, it was clear that they were 
quite spent.
     Celesta smiled weakly. "That was no light work, I'll say that."
     Dr. Zee looked drained and was pressing his hand to his forehead and 
temples. Celesta saw this and nodded. "I know the feeling," she said 
gently, placing her hands on his head. The pain seemed to just melt away 
and disappear. "You did well, my friend, but you'll need to rest."
     "I can't argue that," replied Dr. Zee. He started to pull himself to 
his feet and almost collapsed.
     "Dr. Zee!" Wellington cried, moving to him and reaching to support 
and hold him upright. "Are you sure you're gonna be okay?"
     Dr. Zee gave Wellington a tired, but grateful smile. "I'm all right, 
really; just a bit dizzy." He pressed Wellington's hand.
     Troy walked over and picked up Dr. Zee. "You're not walking back, 
that's for sure," he said. "Consider that an order."
     Dr. Zee had blinked in surprise as Troy had lifted him; now he let 
himself relax, head resting against Troy's shoulder. "Yes Sir," he 
acknowledged softly. "Thanks, Troy."
     Celesta found herself supported between Dillon and Hector. She, too, 
looked exhausted, but definitely seemed to have more tolerance than Dr. 
Zee.
     "Celesta," Troy looked down at the pale face against his shoulder. 
"If this is what moving that granite can do, moving the tractor--"
     Celesta smiled. "That's one reason I think we should do it in the 
morning. We'll be fresh, then. Don't forget all the events of the day have 
also taken a toll on us, probably, in many ways, Dr. Zee more than 
anyone."
     Dr. Zee nodded against Troy. "I would have to agree with her on that 
one," he said.
     They reached the house and Maria, seeing Troy carrying an 
exhausted-looking Dr. Zee, ran to them. Troy lowered the boy into a chair 
and Maria dropped to her knees beside him and hugged him gently. "What 
happened!" she exclaimed softly. "Are you all right? What can I get for 
you?"
     Dr. Zee could feel her genuine love and concern. "I'm okay, just 
somewhat drained." A thoughtful frown knitted his brows. "Is there some 
term for that here?" He looked at Wellington who obviously seem to have 
picked up several expressions.
     "Wiped out," replied Wellington. "I'd say that probably describes the 
way you look."
     Dr. Zee had to smile. "I thought you'd be able to come up with 
something appropriate."
     Maria smoothed his hair. "How about some hot chocolate?" she 
suggested.
     "Oh, definitely!" Troy grinned. "Take her up on it. Maria makes the 
best hot chocolate I've tasted yet."
     They sat and drank hot chocolate, the rest of the children joining 
them. Gloria stayed in the living room and sat down at the piano. She had 
taken lessons some years before and had dropped them, partially due to a 
lack of money. Every so often, she would pull out one of her piano music 
books and see how far she could get with a piece. Now she looked at one 
which she knew fairly well--Bach's Prelude in C-Major--and began to play 
it.
     Dr. Zee, finishing his hot chocolate and pronouncing it truly 
excellent, turned toward the living room, listening to the notes.
     "That's my sister," grinned Chris. "She's not so bad; she just needs 
practice."
     Dr. Zee smiled. It had been some time since he had really sat down 
with his music, too. Celesta had been right; he had let it lapse. "I think 
I probably need some practice, too," he admitted softly.
     Chris's eyes widened. "You've got pianos on your ship, too?"
     Dr. Zee checked his computron for a reference, then replied, "We have 
similar types of instruments."
     Chris grinned, and it broadened as Gloria hit a wrong note. "I think 
she needs help."
     Dr. Zee slowly rose and walked into the living room.
     Gloria was replaying a passage, face muscles tensing with 
concentration. Finally, after the third error, she looked up and saw Dr. 
Zee watching her. "Sorry," she said. "I can't tell if I'm reading this 
wrong or what! I'm not real good at this."
     Dr. Zee leaned toward her and read the sheet.
     "Um--do you guys read music, too?" asked Gloria, somewhat shyly.
     "Yes, we do," replied Dr. Zee. "Might I try this?"
     "Sure," smiled Gloria, relinquishing the bench to him.
     Dr. Zee shifted the small lamp for better reading, then took a slow 
deep breath. "I am out of practice," he said.
     Gloria grinned. "That's okay."
     Dr. Zee flexed his fingers and wrists and began the Prelude. He got 
so involved with it that he was totally unaware that an audience had 
gathered to listen--everyone. When he had finished, they all applauded and 
demanded more. Celesta was beaming, her mind soothing and encouraging. 
"Glad to see you haven't lost your love of music," it said.
     Dr. Zee smiled and turned some pages in the book, stopping at the 
Harp Etude.
     Gloria shook her head. "That one's way out of my league," she said 
mournfully. "I love the way it sounds. You think you can play that?"
     Dr. Zee ran his fingers through some test chords, then straightened 
the book and studied the music for a moment. "I--I think so," he replied 
hesitantly. "I only hope I can do it justice," he murmured. And as his 
audience of a dozen Galactican children, two warriors, one medic and the 
four members of the Alanzo family held their breath, Dr. Zee began to play 
the piece, pouring into it his love for all of them.

                          37. Taxing The Talents

     Dr. Zee woke to see sun streaming through the window. A glance at the 
small clock on the table beside him showed 8:45, much later than he'd 
risen on the last two mornings. He dressed quickly and headed downstairs, 
feeling very alert, awake and in need of something to eat.
     Maria greeted him warmly as he entered the kitchen. "I had a feeling 
you would probably be sleeping in a bit," she smiled. "Celesta only just 
finished her breakfast a few minutes ago; she's outside talking to the 
children and convincing them to stay away from the reservoir."
     Dr. Zee smiled. So Celesta had slept late, too. "I'll be interested 
to know how she's going to convince them not to come down there," he 
mused.
     "Blessed if I know," laughed Maria. "Now, sit down, and I'll get you 
something to eat; you're probably starving."
     "I am that," admitted Dr. Zee. "Ever since I've come here, I have 
been eating far more than I normally would."
     "Probably the fresh air for one thing," Maria responded, placing a 
mat and silverware before him. "And you're probably doing a lot of things 
you normally wouldn't be doing on the ship. True?"
     "Yes, that is true." Maria placed a large bowl of sliced fruit and a 
plate of eggs and home fries before him. "Thank you," he said, 
appreciatively.
     "You're welcome, dear," Maria replied, pressing his shoulder and 
giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.
     "Eating again, Dr. Zee?" Dr. Zee looked up to see a dry smile on 
Celesta's lips, but there was laughter in her eyes.
     Dr. Zee returned a smile. "I can't seem to stop eating. I was just 
saying to Maria that, since I've come here, I have been eating a lot."
     Celesta snickered. "And you could use it, too."
     Dr. Zee sighed, immersing himself in his breakfast. He had a feeling 
that, between Maria and Celesta, he would be stuffed whether he wanted to 
be or not. As good as this food tasted, he didn't mind at all.
     "When do we attempt the tractor?" he asked, swallowing a mouthful of 
home fries.
     "When you've finished eating, I want you to take at least a half hour 
to digest," replied Celesta. "During that time, we'll work on centering 
and focus to sort of warm up. Then, we'll make the attempt."
     "How in the world are you going to convince those children to keep 
out of your hair?" asked Maria.
     "Well, Hector and Troy are going to keep them busy. Wellington told 
me he wanted to come down, but doesn't want to have to do a lot of 
explaining, so he thinks it's best for him not to be there, but he wrote 
you this note." Celesta handed Dr. Zee a scrap of folded paper. "Dillon 
will be joining us, though."
     Dr. Zee put down his fork and opened the paper. It read:
     "I wish I could come down there and help you with my thoughts, but I 
don't think it's a great idea since I'd probably have to answer a lot of 
questions. But I'll be thinking real hard and hope it helps. I got real 
worried about you last night; you looked so awful. Please don't go hurting 
yourself trying to pull out the tractor. I feel bad enough about what 
happened and if anything happens to you, I guess, I'll feel responsible. 
It's because of me the tractor got there in the first place and you 
shouldn't be the one to have to get it out. Please, Dr. Zee, be careful! - 
Wellington."
     Dr. Zee folded the note with trembling hands and slipped it into his 
pocket. Borrowing a pen from Maria, he wrote: "Wellington, I promise to be 
careful. I will keep your note with me and know that your thoughts are 
with me, too. When this is all over, I think we have a lot of lost years 
to make up for and a lot of talking to do. Again, thank you, and, please, 
keep sending those thoughts. They're important to me. - Zee."
     He quickly sketched the Triad emblem at the bottom and handed the 
note to Celesta who nodded and went to give it to Wellington. Feeling a 
sense of peace within him, Dr. Zee finished his breakfast and met Celesta 
to work on mental relaxation.
     Wellington, as he read the note, saw that Dr. Zee had not signed it 
with his title. That meant something special to Wellington; it was 
personal. He hadn't had the title officially until a year after the 
incident. Here, he had written with no title and had drawn the Triad 
emblem on the note. "Just don't go getting yourself killed, Zee," thought 
Wellington.
     As Troy walked past Wellington, he noted the boy was fighting tears. 
"Wellington, you okay?" Troy dropped into a squat beside him on the 
ground.
     "Yeah," Wellington managed. "Just got a note from Dr. Zee and it was 
kind o' special."
     Troy smiled. "I see."
     Wellington leaned very close to Troy and quickly showed him the note. 
Troy, too, noted the signature and nodded. "Yes, I'd say that's special. 
Hang onto it and send good thoughts. I'm sure he'll be fine. Celesta 
wouldn't let anything happen to him."
     Celesta and Dr. Zee gazed down at the tractor from where they sat 
close to the reservoir. Dr. Zee was feeling centered, at peace, and ready 
to tackle this monumental task. Celesta, too, was determined to get the 
vehicle out, but she knew, as well as did Dr. Zee, that this was going to 
be no easy or quick thing.
     Dillon sat close to them, watching them as they joined hands and 
linked mentally. What was it he felt? He could not describe it exactly, 
but there was a feeling of power and assurance. He closed his eyes and let 
his mind focus on Celesta and Dr. Zee. More and more, he was learning 
about different facets of Dr. Zee; more and more, his respect and love of 
the boy was increasing; more and more, he wished that the people of the 
fleet would take time to see and care about the whole person of Dr. Zee, 
not just the incredible wisdom and intellect they had come to rely on. As 
he thought about these things, his heart and mind filled with thoughts and 
feelings of support, willing his own strength to reach Dr. Zee and 
Celesta, aiding them in this tremendous effort.
     The two had linked, now, and Celesta had signaled the start. Dillon 
watched, heart pounding, as the tractor began to move, lift, then drop 
back, only to lift again and stagger shakily to its wheels on the bottom 
of the reservoir. He saw Dr. Zee and Celesta glance at each other and 
slowly unlink.
     "This is not going to be easy!" exclaimed Celesta softly, grabbing a 
pitcher of water she had brought and a cup.
     Dr. Zee nodded, wiping beads of perspiration from his forehead and 
taking a cup for himself. "Celesta," his voice was somewhat hoarse, "I 
could feel you straining, too. What do we do, now?"
     Celesta took a couple swallows of her water. "I'm not quite sure," 
she admitted. "I think we can break the surface, now; the water will give 
us the buoyancy effect. But once we're clear of the surface, that's where 
my real worry is."
     Dillon suddenly had a thought. "If you can get it to the surface and 
get it close enough so that the front is just over the edge of the wall, 
Troy and I could probably pull it up and you wouldn't have to do much 
except give us a helping push. Is that possible?"
     Celesta turned to Dillon with a slow nod of approval. "That just 
might work," she said.
     Dr. Zee smiled at Dillon. He had been aware of Dillon's thoughts 
reaching out to him. "Theoretically, it is possible," he said. "My only 
real concern is that the ground is not very firm and you could lose your 
footing."
     "I think we'll be okay," Dillon reassured him. "I'm going to get 
Troy. Be right back."
     Troy was just bringing some freshly picked and cut vegetables into 
the kitchen when Dillon caught up with him. "Troy, we're gonna have to 
give them some help," he said.
     Troy placed his bundle on the table. Maria turned from the cake 
batter she was mixing. "Dillon, is something wrong?" was her concerned 
question.
     "Not exactly," replied Dillon. "Celesta figures they can break the 
surface all right, but then they won't have the buoyancy factor to help 
them. I figure if they get it in close enough we can help by pulling at 
least half the weight."
     "Got ya," Troy acknowledged, wiping his hands on his jeans and 
turning toward the door.
     "Are they all right, Dillon?" asked Maria.
     "Yeah, they seem to be," replied Dillon. "But it's not going to be 
easy."
     Troy and Dillon reached the reservoir and Troy could see the tractor 
standing upright at the bottom. Dr. Zee and Celesta were leaning back, 
allowing themselves to relax totally before making the next attempt.
     "Dillon's told me what the deal is," said Troy. "We're ready whenever 
you are."
     Celesta nodded. "Okay," she replied. "Just give us a few moments to 
link up."
     She and Dr. Zee joined hands and minds again. Dr. Zee reached his 
free hand into his pocket and pulled out the note from Wellington. He read 
it through again, feeling its intent, concern and support. Smiling, he 
slipped it back into his pocket and put himself into mental focus. "I'm 
with you, Celesta," his mind said to hers. He felt her respond; they 
completed their link.
     Celesta signaled they were starting. Dillon and Troy moved as close 
to the edge as they could get, ready to grab the tractor as soon as it 
came within their reach. They could see it moving, lifting, struggling 
upward. It's progress was slow and halting, but there was progress.
     Maria, standing in the kitchen with her cake batter, found it 
difficult to concentrate on anything but the two gifted people at the 
reservoir. She was concerned for them, worried that the effort would hurt 
them in some way. Suddenly, she dropped her spoon and ran from the 
kitchen. She felt with all her heart that she needed to be there.
     Dillon glanced at Celesta and Dr. Zee. He could see the struggle in 
both faces tensed with an incredible depth of concentration. He could also 
see Celesta's temples pulsating and perspiration rolling from Dr. Zee's 
forehead. "Troy, how long can they keep this up?" whispered Dillon, his 
expression worried.
     "I don't know," Troy whispered back, "but keep trying to send 
supportive thoughts."
     The tractor was almost at the surface, but it was clear that both 
Celesta and Dr. Zee were nearing the end of their resources.
     Troy and Dillon saw it waver and start to sink. "They're so close!" 
was Dillon's whispered exclamation. "Come on, just a bit more."
     Suddenly, Celesta's head lifted; so did Dr. Zee's. Both looked like 
they had just received a jolt. As Troy and Dillon watched, open-mouthed, 
the tractor almost exploded from the water, heading toward them and into 
their ready grasp. It yielded to them, feeling as if it weighed 
practically nothing.
     As they cleared the reservoir, Maria came running toward them and 
dropped to her knees, placing her arms around Celesta and Dr. Zee.
     The two of them looked up at her and Celesta, exhausted as she was, 
could not contain her laughter. "It was you," she gasped. "We felt you, 
Maria!"
     Dr. Zee leaned against Maria, tears of joy and relief flowing from 
his eyes. "Thank you," he whispered.
     "I don't understand!" Maria was clearly at a loss. "What did I do? 
All I did was--" She paused, reflectively. "I was worried about you both. 
I just had to drop what I was doing and come down here. As I ran I could 
feel something--I'm not sure what. I reached out my mind and all I could 
thing about was being with you and helping you in some way. I got to those 
trees," she said, pointing to a small stand about twenty yards away. "I 
felt suddenly connected, somehow. I had to sit down and just open myself 
and reach out." She stared at the two. "Did I really help you?"
     "Yes, my friend, you sure did!" exclaimed Celesta. "We were just 
about to let it go. Dr. Zee has stretched himself way over his limits." 
Celesta pulled herself up to take a quick scan of Dr. Zee. To her 
surprise, he seemed fine, just very tired.
     "No headache?" she asked him.
     "No," Dr. Zee shook his head in surprise, remembering the headache of 
the night before.
     "I think," Celesta told Maria, "you have the potential for very 
strong empathy. I believe it was your added support and strength that 
really made the difference."
     "I could feel it from Dillon and Troy, too," said Dr. Zee softly. "I 
know that helped a lot, but when you connected, Maria, it was like--" He 
couldn't find the right words.
     "Charging a dying battery," offered Troy.
     They all had to laugh at that.
     Slowly, Dr. Zee and Celesta pulled themselves up, Maria giving them 
more water to drink from the pitcher. "What shape is the tractor in, 
gentlemen?" asked Celesta.
     "Well," replied Troy after a quick examination, "We'll need to let it 
dry out first before we can say for sure."
     "It's amazing it doesn't look any more banged up than it does," 
commented Dillon. "That one tire will need to be replaced, but I'm gonna 
be optimistic and say that I think she'll run without a whole lot of 
fixing up."
     "Well, I think you two need some fixing up," said Maria, placing an 
arm around a very weary-looking Dr. Zee. Turning to Dillon and Troy she 
added, "Let's get them back to the house where they can rest and eat and 
recoup at their own speed."
     This time, Dillon came to Dr. Zee and swept him up while Troy had 
Celesta off the ground before she could utter a word. With Maria walking 
ahead, the men carried two exhausted telekinetics back to the house.

                               38. Closure

     Dr. Zee and Celesta rested and slept upon returning to the house. 
Dillon and Troy knew they would have a multitude of questions to answer, 
and had no idea how they would be able to answer them.
     "We can't just tell them!" Dillon's distress was echoed in Troy's 
expression.
     "No, we can't," agreed Troy. "It was hard enough for Dr. Zee and 
Celesta to tell us, let alone Hector and Maria. And I've got the feeling 
that Wellington's not going to say anything. Maybe, we should just tell 
them that we used some new experimental technology."
     "Yeah," said Dillon, letting out a long sigh. "That sounds okay by 
me."
     "I'd better tell Wellington that Dr. Zee's okay," was Troy's 
thoughtful comment. "He was really worried."
     So, Dillon and Troy went to talk to the children, Troy pulling 
Wellington aside and giving him a quick alert that Dr. Zee was okay and 
resting. Wellington managed to contain himself and just nodded, giving an 
inward cheer.
     When Dr. Zee woke, it was almost dinner time. As was becoming normal 
for him, he was quite hungry. He still felt tired, but that totally 
drained feeling was no longer there. He wondered how Celesta was doing. 
She had been his guide, his mentor, his teacher, and he needed to know 
that she was all right. He had felt her struggling to maintain her hold on 
the tractor as well as her link with him; he had felt her almost give up 
and he had tried to give her whatever was left in him to give.
     A gentle knock at his door interrupted his thoughts. He propped 
himself up on an elbow, calling, "Yes, enter!"
     The door opened and Dr. Zee flew out of bed and across the room into 
Celesta's waiting arms.
     "Yes, my gentle friend, I'm all right," she soothed. "And so are you, 
thank God."
     "I'm sorry," Dr. Zee felt his voice choke on tears of relief. "I was 
so worried for you. I could feel you trying so hard to hold the link 
and--" He swallowed hard. "I wanted so much to be able to do more to help, 
but I didn't know how!"
     Celesta drew him close and laughed. "You did great! Better than I 
expected, perhaps," she said reassuringly. "I could feel you, too, 
reaching down into your depths to find inner strength. You've learned much 
in an extremely short time. And you know why?"
     Dr. Zee shook his head non-comprehendingly. "No," he replied.
     "I think it's because of two things. First, because you are learning 
to accept who you are--all of you, and you've discovered that not only can 
you love but be loved for who you are. Second, I believe you have a mighty 
purpose to fulfill. It may mean changing your lifestyle, but if you had 
the strength to resolve your conflict with Wellington and have both of you 
come out smiling, as well as the strength to help move a tractor, you will 
have the strength to meet the difficulties which may lie ahead in making 
those changes.
     Dr. Zee rested his cheek against hers. "I hope so," he breathed. 
"When we return to the Galactica, if I may, I'd like to talk about some of 
those changes with you. I--I can't make them alone."
     "Whatever guidance and support I can give you, I will," was Celesta's 
heart-felt reply.
     Dr. Zee smiled. "Thank you," he whispered. "Celesta, I truly love you 
and thank you for your love and understanding of me. I need that more than 
I sometimes would care to admit not only to myself but to others."
     Celesta laughed. "And I love you, little one. Perhaps, you can be the 
son I could never have and always wanted. We'll keep that our secret, 
yes?"
     They touched minds and hearts, embracing for a long moment.
     They were interrupted by a noise--the growling of two stomachs. Dr. 
Zee groaned. "Felgercarb! Doesn't this thing have a bottom?"
     Celesta laughed outright. "I think mine's forgotten where its bottom 
is, too. Well, let's go fill the noisy things."
     As they walked out onto the porch for dinner, they were both all but 
besieged by thirteen children wanting to know if they were okay, had they 
been sick, what happened, etc. Hands were grasped and squeezed, shoulders 
thumped, and Wellington actually grabbed and hugged Dr. Zee.
     "I read your note," he whispered. "All I could think about was that 
you'd better not get yourself killed, Zee."
     Dr. Zee pulled Wellington aside and spoke softly. "Keep thinking 
that, Wellington. I may need you on my team again, if you care to."
     "Sure," breathed Wellington. "Doing what?"
     Dr. Zee paused a moment, then said, slowly, "I'm really not sure yet, 
but, for one thing, I may be looking to you for cues on how to loosen up, 
particularly in my speech. I can't seem to get the hang of Earth's lingo."
     Wellington snickered. "Well, ya got that one all right. Sure, I'll 
try, but you've gotta keep your ears open for context stuff." Wellington 
became thoughtful. "When are you going back to the Galactica?"
     He was surprised by a look of conspiratorial mischief in Dr. Zee's 
face. "Well--um--let's just say that I--uh--I'm going to try to hold off 
on that for another week if at all possible. Otherwise, I might have to 
return day after tomorrow."
     "How are you gonna--okay, what's cookin' in that head of yours?"
     "Perhaps I'm long overdue for a furlon," replied Dr. Zee, "and I 
think I owe it to myself to take some time for me."
     "Wow!" was Wellington's breathed exclamation. "That'll be great! You 
won't have a problem with that, will you?"
     Dr. Zee remembered something he had seen on a television transmission 
from Earth. He smiled and said quite calmly, "Frankly, my dear Wellington, 
I don't give a damn."
     Wellington practically collapsed, holding his stomach with laughter, 
then pressed Dr. Zee's shoulders. "I saw that movie!" he roared. "That was 
the best part of the whole picture!"
     Dr. Zee grinned. "I've gotta eat before I pass out," he said.
     Wellington nodded and steered Dr. Zee toward the food.
     Later, as things settled down and Dr. Zee had eaten until he could 
hold no more, he sat, looking out over the farm and could see dimly in the 
distance the tractor now on dry land. He had, indeed, learned a great deal 
through that experience, in fact, through all his experiences since he'd 
come to Earth. They had given him a better education at living than all 
his years aboard the Galactica.
     "Dr. Zee?"
     He looked around and saw Starla standing close to him. He smiled at 
her and, opening his mind, sensed that she truly cared, but was feeling 
shy.
     "I felt bad because I didn't get a chance to thank you for saving my 
life the first time from those chemicals," she began, "and you saved me 
again yesterday." She held up a small vase of flowers.
     Dr. Zee looked down at her and suddenly found himself reaching out 
and taking her close. Her tears touched his shirt.
     "I was so scared that Wellington really was going to kill you," she 
sobbed.
     "Starla, everything's all right now," he reassured her, smoothing her 
hair. "And as far as saving your life is concerned, you are most welcome. 
Thank you for this." He moved his eyes to the vase.
     Starla looked up at him with great love and appreciation. "I like 
you," she stated.
     Dr. Zee smiled, realizing tears were shimmering in his own eyes. "I 
like you, too, Starla, and I want you to promise me that you will always 
keep that loving heart within you. Okay?"
     "Okay," she promised.
     Later that night, Dr. Zee again sat down at the piano, letting the 
language of music express his thoughts and feelings in a way words never 
could. Listening to it, Troy and Dillon knew that they had both found a 
very special person in Dr. Zee--for Dillon, a friend and Troy, a brother.
     In fact, everyone had drawn closer over the last day or so, and those 
bonds would last a lifetime.
     Dr. Zee looked across at Gloria and, resting his thumb on a page, 
smiled at her and played the Harp Etude, letting the music proclaim to all 
the peace and love he had finally found for and within himself.

                                 EPILOGUE

From Dr. Zee's Tapes

Personal Logue, Earth Date July 4, 1981.
     I've returned to the Galactica with a whole new set of experiences 
under my belt, including a better knowledge of Earth's American 
expressions. I must say I've learned some British ones, too, which I felt 
was important since I sound to them more like I'm from England than Los 
Angeles. Wellington and the other children were very helpful with it all. 
They really seemed to want to help me in any way they could. I even 
learned a bit of Spanish from Chris and the rest of his family, though my 
accent needs a lot of improvement.
     Jamie did return to the farm two days after we hauled the tractor out 
and, after listening to the details, I think she was very glad to have 
been in Los Alamos covering a story on newly discovered fossils. She was 
exceedingly glad, though, that Wellington was no longer threatening bodily 
harm to my person. She also was able to obtain material for me on Earth's 
paranormal research. Her next assignment was taking her to a group at Cal 
Tech which studies parapsychology.
     The tractor was indeed repairable, having sustained surprisingly 
little damage. In fact, with some pointers from Hector's service manual 
and Wellington's fast-growing knowledge of Earth vehicles and appliances, 
the two of us had it running in just a few hours. I discovered I could use 
the dermal grafter on low field to seal the rubber of the tire, which 
meant we wouldn't have to replace it. Actually, I rather think I liked 
being a--oh, what's the term Troy used--oh, yes!--a grease monkey.
     I did take some time for myself, much to the distress of the Council 
and others. But, to my surprise, however, Adama seemed to really 
understand. Perhaps the whole experience of my injuries plus our 
conversation after we arrived at the Alanzos had a lot to do with it. 
Perhaps Celesta gave him a piece of her mind, too; I know she had asked to 
speak with him privately. At any rate, Adama told me that he would support 
me in whatever I felt I needed to do.
     "Dr. Zee, I hate to admit how dependent all of us, including myself, 
have become on your wisdom and intelligence. Unfortunately, it would seem 
that our dependence on you has cost you your independence. I know you've 
tried to tell me this, and I haven't listened. But I am listening, now. I 
am so sorry for letting it go so far!"
     As I looked at Commander Adama, I felt his mind opening to me and 
reaching out. I responded, finding to my great joy a supportive and loving 
understanding. It was mixed with worry, however, knowing that I would 
probably be subjected to a barrage of questions and complaints from the 
Council and command structures.
     I had to smile. "Oh, yes, there will be a great to-do," I laughed, 
"but I also have the feeling there will be some relief from those who 
didn't truly want me there in the first place."
     Adama, too, had to smile, but it was a sad one. "Yes, indeed, it will 
not be easy. But we'll work together on this one. And I know, for a fact, 
there are two able warriors and one--no, perhaps three highly qualified 
medics who will gladly stand by you."
     "There is one more," I said softly.
     "Oh?" Adama lifted his eyebrows.
     I pulled out the note from Wellington which I had kept with me and 
opened it. "He who was my enemy and is now my friend."
     Adama smiled, we hugged each other and he left.
     Adama was right; I had two of the greatest warriors, now turned 
part-time farmers, and three medics, one of whom has become like a mother 
to me. And the other two? Clare and Trent? One of the first things I did 
when I got back to the Galactica was to put in a formal recommendation and 
request for Dr. Clare to assist me as Head Medical Researcher, Special 
Research. I wanted Celesta involved with my special research, too, but she 
would rather just consult and practice regular medicine. As for Trent, I 
signed off on his promotion to Advanced Grade, which should go through 
possibly tomorrow. I also requested formal commendations for all three of 
them; they worked so hard to save me. My unofficial recognition to them 
consisted of batches of brownies Maria and I threw together. They loved 
it!
     I'm looking at a display, now, of fireworks somewhere in New York 
City, a place both Troy and Dillon would love to revisit. July 4 is 
drawing to a close; July 4--Independence Day for the USA. I guess, 
perhaps, it's mine, too.
     Oh! Wow! that looks so super. All those colors!
     Well, I should get some rest. I have a lot of research to do tomorrow 
on some compounds I got from Dr. Spencer. So I think I'll sign off now and 
pick this up another time. I did get to see Dr. Spencer again before 
returning to the ship. He'll be getting married, soon. He has a new nurse 
who just happens to be his fiancee. Valerie, he told me, did get the job 
at the child care center and is happier than he's ever seen her. I'm glad 
all that worked out.
     I'll close by saying that I really feel good about myself, the things 
I've learned and the people I've come to love and appreciate during my 
stay on Earth. I spent so much of my life searching for peace; now I have 
it from within and from without. I will go back, too, as often as my time 
will permit. It's much more beneficial to learn about our Earth brothers 
first hand than it is to review tons of information. Besides, a written 
recipe doesn't taste anywhere near as good as this real, authentic 
brownie. That's it; I am a chocoholic!
Computron System, terminate recording; bring up music text for Claire De 
Lune.

The End